The Back End of Forever
by Mimeux
Summary: Amory Belmont, a hunter with a penchant for cursing, covered in ink and cloaked in mystery, has one year left to live. Fate has other plans; she's going to find that life has a funny way of falling into perfect place when it's most imperfect. On the brink of the end of whatever forever is, she could gain everything – even as she stands to lose what little she has. JasperxOC
1. Chapter 1

(Author's Note: I'm going to lead by saying thank you for clicking on this story despite my horrible summary skills. I a) haven't read the Twilight books in years, and I only watched bits and pieces of the first few movies, and b) haven't written a story in a _long_ while. But, I do my research before starting a story, so it should be fairly accurate. Feel free to ask questions! This is going to be a slow build, though hopefully not too slow – it's going to mainly be a romance fic, but there are action bits as well. The story (the first part of this story, at least) is written in its entirety, and I'm just going through and doing final edits before I post the chapters. I hope this is a fresh take on things, prepare for some set up; the first few chapters are going to get a little introspective. The main pairing here is JasperxOC, because he's rad with mentions of AlicexBella (though it's by no means the focus of the story), because I always thought that'd be cute. This will follow the normal timeline of the books.

I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you like it!

Warnings: Swearing ahead, violence and drinking and smoking, mentions of sexings in later chapters. All the good stuff, right?

Anyways, tl;dr, I'm an over-explainer, story time.

This novel of an author's note won't be a regular occurrence. Be gentle with me, I haven't done this in a while! :3

Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.)

* * *

Goodbye

I regard my reflection in the mirror, a new habit of mine. Never used to do it much – no time in my line of work to wonder if my lipstick is smeared or my hair is a mess – but now it's a too-often occurrence. I feel like I have to memorize every line and curve of myself, like burning that image into my memory will prevent me from fading away – dying I'm not so sure about yet, but getting sick, _looking _sick? Nah, I'm good. I pull at my unkempt hair, once a Mohawk and now a short shaggy mess on my head, and when I'm done with that I pinch at my face; every movement I make in the florescent bathroom lighting makes my tattoos seem to glow across my flesh. Garnet red and fathomless black crisscross in a seemingly endless pattern, lines mixing with runes mixing with magic, and even those aren't half as extensive as the ones that are barely visible to the naked eye – the ones that look like faint scars in the sunlight; those seem to literally glitter on nearly every visible inch of my skin, among the actual scars from a life forged in the heat of battle.

My tattoos – the marks of a Hunter – they'll buy me a little life, even though they're probably the thing that caused this whole mess. Now they're going to be a semi-savior. Not that I need saving – we're all dying, right? Even the ones who claim immortality; everything comes to an end eventually.

There's always a back end to everything, a point where things that once worked just…Stop. Forever has one of those, too. I have to believe that, at least – time as an endless loop is just too much for me to wrap my mind around. Sometimes I ask myself how much living I have left, and the answer comes almost instantaneously; what does it matter? I've been dying since birth, what makes now any different? I've got a shorter expiration date? After the shit I've been through…I'm surprised it's taken this long to put me down. And the baddies aren't even doing it.

I'll be dead soon. Soon-ish – a year and some change maybe. There've been plenty of times I wished for death, begged for it in the darkest reaches of my past, and now that the belated request is coming to pass I wish I could have just a little more time to make up for the mistakes I've made. Getting that _fucked_ diagnosis really made death a real concept for me, something I can succumb to and not just deal in. And it's sounding more and more like a raw deal. After all, who can say what happens after the end? If it's really an end, there isn't really an after.

If that's true, then what about the alternative – is it any better? Immortality, living out the rest of _forever_…It's not really an option for me, and even if it was, I don't think I could do it. Even with the few things I have to hang onto in this world – two friends thousands of miles away and a job that's now getting harder with each hunt – I'm going to have to lose that alone once. Could I do it over and over as centuries pass, solitary and sullen? Then there's my past; coming to terms with that as _forever_ takes on a more literal meaning would put a new spin on things. Time has a way of obscuring the past, of making you think and rethink things until they aren't exactly how they were, but they are how you _remember _them being – and those two aren't always the same thing. I might feel _rage_ at what was done to me, but as a mortal I'd rather be dead than forgive John for his transgressions against me, for hurting his own flesh and blood. Would I want that feeling – that memory – to change, given the chance?

The answer to all of these questions is hell no.

"Time to do some ass-kicking while it's still left in me." I smile as I say this aloud to the reflection in the mirror, pearly whites shining brightly, sounding slightly hopeful at the thought of dying in battle and not sick in bed. So I'm a little fucked up, a little bit of a sick-bitch; I wasn't born like this.

This is what was made of me.

I turn from my reflection, grab my keys, and unlock the rest-stop door. I get more than a few stares as I strut to my beat up old Geo; like they've never seen a girl in ripped up jeans, combat boots and a black crop top before – it's Los Angeles, for Christ's sake. They're lucky it's just my stomach showing. Never mind the fact I'm covered in tats, right? I don't pay them much mind. For most of my life I've been looked at as an outsider, and stranger's opinions on things they don't know a thing about don't carry much weight with me.

Green paint is chipping away nearly everywhere on the Geo Metro – it's been through quite a lot with me. I pop open the door and climb into the duct-tape patched seat; there are still parts where the adhesive is giving up the ghost and the innards of the seat are spilling out, but that's just character. That's what I tell myself, anyways; beats saying it's just a piece of shit.

I toss a glance into the backseat, letting my gaze rest upon a journal lifted from my most recent quarry – miscreant vampires – and my mind wanders to the towns mentioned therein. Olympia and Seattle are troublesome targets, big cities are always a pain in the ass to hunt through…But my mind wanders to the third on the list.

This hunt is getting ridiculous; I need to see a man about some venom.

* * *

Jagged metal bites sharply into my thumb as I twist the top off my beer; the hiss of carbonation I'm met with soothes my frazzled nerves, but not nearly as much as the first frosty swig.

"How long you been at this one?" William Alford, my second oldest friend in the world; his wizened face crinkles into a smile as he addresses me, sun-worn skin wrinkling around his gray eyes. I've been in his apartment above his shop all of twenty minutes, and after a warm hello, he proves he still knows me best; a cool six-pack of beer sits on the table between us as I inform him of my latest hunt.

I take a moment to answer Liam, mostly so I can wrap myself up in his calming English accent for maybe the last time, and partly because I'm ashamed to answer, "A month. Too long. They've gotten away _four times. _New York, Vancouver, Salt Lake City, then again in San Diego…Three vampires, and they are giving me more _fucking _trouble than a den of werewolves during a full moon," I scoff before taking a hit off my brew, "What is the world coming to?"

"Language, mon petite chat," the old nickname makes me giggle – I've always loved cats, and he'd been quite fluent in French once upon a time, "you haven't been this impatient since your first mark." The old alchemist across from me props his dusty old boots up on his work table, assessing my barely concealed embarrassment as he lights his tobacco pipe. The scent, acrid, musty, and comforting, brings me back to my teenage years. I lived here with him then – that life seems a million years away, sandwiched between bad memories.

"Yeah, that's because I haven't felt this _green_ since my first mark." I take another drink, relishing the cool sensation running through my body. Los Angeles always was way too warm for me, regardless of the season – doesn't help that using witch blood and beast blood and venom for tattoo ink ensures a higher than normal body temperature.

"I don't want to make assumptions," he takes a long inhale off the pipe; when the smoke pours out of his nose adding to the white stubble dusting his chin he looks quite like a dragon, knowledgeable and ancient, "but wouldn't you rather be spending your last day's alive doing something less….Macabre?"

"News travels fast with you old biddies," I rub absentmindedly at the peak of my first tattoo, at the base of my skull, "What should I do instead? Guess I could always be one of those tatted up strippers." I snort, ever lady like – and drain the rest of my beer before grabbing another from the six-pack on the table. Not like I hadn't done it a few times before – the stripping or the beer. The thought is chased with another drink.

As my only acting father figure, he looks as displeased at the mention of taking of my clothes for money as I could've imagined. His mouth is a thin line as he replies, "Is that the only thing you can think to do?"

"Like I said, I'm open to suggestion." Silence consumes us as he continues puffing away on his pipe; I can tell he is thinking, hard, about other things I could be doing. He's wanted more for me than this sham of a life, more than being a world traveling vagabond; Liam's always wanted more for me than I've wanted for myself. I always imagined going back to this life after leaving it was like a slap in the face to him, but he's reaching the same conclusion now that I did years ago. I was _built_ for this. There's no other life for me beyond the occult.

Well, there is, but I tried it and it _really _sucks – and considering everything I know is tearing things up and burning them down, that's saying something.

Through the silence I pull absentmindedly at the label on my beer, and when it's in tatters I look up give him a sly glance, "Still got that venom Bryn left you? I'm gonna be needing a new mark." My _other_ oldest friend – the oldest, considering he was turned back in the eight hundreds, during the beginning of the Viking Empire.

At the mention of rustling through the familiarly chaotic room around us, he rises from his chair with a twinkle in his eye. I settle back into my seat, arms folded across my flat chest, as Liam flits about his laboratory; he's still spry for a sixty-two year old mercenary veteran. It gives me time to appreciate him and his work, for maybe the last time. He's been my father figure even before he took me in; I've never met a more gentle soul. Or a better alchemist, but I don't often tell him that; proud bastard doesn't need help inflating his ego. I remember the day I showed up on his doorstep, a knobby-kneed fourteen year old with too many tattoos and an attitude so serious I put the supreme court to shame; he helped me come out of my shell, out of the life I'd been forced to lead. I owe him that life as it stands today, though considering the circumstances I don't know that it counts for much.

He finally stops moving about and settles a beautiful crystal vial with a silver stopper wedged in the top in front of me on the surface of his burned and battered work table, a fluid that looks as unassuming as water lurking underneath, "This is the same supply of venom Bryn left for you. Humor an old alchemist and tell me your next mark - and where you'll be heading next, of course."

I pick up the glass and remind myself to get in touch with Brynjar again; _especially_ after how our last conversation ended, "You're a life-saver, Liam."

"If only I was, Rory," I turn myself away from his sad expression, uncomfortable and unable to bear it. Instead of pressing the issue of my impending doom farther, he moves to stand in front of me and looks at me expectantly, awaiting answers. Typical William Alford; always has to know everything.

"I'm headed to Washington. The three I've been hunting are headed up towards Seattle, but they might stop in Olympia. The journal I swiped from their last location has a slight mention of a coven up there; I don't doubt that's where they'll head for backup if I catch up again. I hate discounting the help, but I can't bank on them being friendlies. If I'm going to be going up against more than the three of them, I want a little insurance."

"What if they _are_ friendlies? And that still doesn't explain the tattoo, or where you'll put it," his sharp eyes search the skin he can see on me in academic interest, "You're running out of room."

"Can't you tell when I'm trying to _avoid _a question?" I ask dryly, snatching up his matchbook and pulling out a smoke of my own. I figured I'd take up smoking for stress relief; not like I have to worry about getting _more _cancer. Taking a long drag, I sigh, "It's another ward for the pain, non-combat use, and I've still got some space on my neck; if I need to do my face then fuck it, right? I'm dying anyways," I gesture at the cigarette in my hand before taking a slow drag – the smoke feels heavy in my lungs and the pleasant buzz is instant. "If the coven up there turns out to be alright, well," In an effort to try to make light of my current state, I smile wanly," "it's going to be a short partnership, if they even want one."

"So you _would _stick around for a watchtower job?" Liam perks up at this, finally seated behind his desk with a beer in his hand once again, looking pleased as punch, "Never thought I'd see the day the infamous Amory Belmont would decide to settle down."

I groan, "My body did all the deciding for me. This…Might be my last hunt." I drain my beer and wish fervently that it's something a bit stronger. I spot the satisfied look on his face and narrow my eyes, "_Might_ be. I don't know. If the circumstances are right when I get up there, why not?"

"I'm glad to see you finally willing to slow down, if only slightly," a sad, wistful expression crosses his countenance. "I just wish it was because it was something you _wanted._"

I _don't_ want this. Don't want to admit I'm getting weaker, or stop what I've been doing for years. Change is hard. But, the things I want usually cause my utter destruction, so maybe it's best that this is a little reluctant.

Might as well make the most of the last of my days; silver linings.

We both grab our final beers from the six-pack between us, and we're both slow to drink them – we both know what's coming next. Goodbyes are always the worst, especially when they might really mean whatever eternity is worth.

"Look, this…It's probably the last time I'll be down here," the last time you'll see me alive is what I mean, but I don't need to say it, I can see the thought reflected in his misty eyes.

He surveys the books littering his work space, "Are you sure there's nothing we can do? Modern medicine may have failed you, but – "

"I've researched ways to stop this; spent all my free time pouring through old texts. I haven't drummed up anything. I'm dying…There's nothing anyone can do." I shrug, and I can feel my eyes water slightly, "I appreciate you wanting to keep me around."

William draws himself out of his chair, crosses the table to me, and pulls me up to give me a bone-crushing, heart wrenching hug. It says all that needs to be said; I love you like a daughter, I can't stand the thought of you wasting away. His scent, the scent of old tobacco and acerbic ingredients, slams me back into my childhood. I grab at the back of his shirt, fisting some of the material like I did when he picked me up as a kid. We stay that way for a few minutes, lost in nostalgia and heartache, before he finally speaks, his voice rumbling his chest against my ear, "The world will be dimmer without you in it, Rory. But with you in Heaven, the stars will shine even brighter."

I'd been holding back my tears pretty well until that; as soon as my nickname leaves his mouth with that broken tone, I lose it. With the floodgates now open, I try not to let him know how shattered I am at this possible last farewell by playfully smacking his shoulder, "You're delusional if you think I'm going anywhere other than Hell."

He pulls back and grins mischievously, tears glinting in his eyes as he winks, "Well, in that case the flames will burn just a bit hotter."

I laugh and he lights up at the sound; just like when I was a moody teenager refusing to smile and he'd catch me off guard with a joke. "You, sir, are a terror. And I think you might have missed your calling as a poet," I pull away from him and stretch out to full height, a whole foot under Liam's six five, and nod at the man before me, "It's appreciated, Liam, everything; you've done more for me in these years than I've done for myself. What do I owe you?"

He presses the vial into my hands, knowing better than to ask me to stay; he knows better than anyone that I'm notoriously stubborn once I've made up my mind, "Nothing. Just, if you do make it up to that little town and decide to stay, let me come bother you a bit."

I embrace him, trying desperately to stop the flow of my tears, "Of course; it's been more than an honor, William Alford. I've yet to meet a finer alchemist."

He smirks, and it momentarily erases the age and care suddenly prominent on his face, "Damn right."

"I know you hate it when I do this, but…I love you, dad."

I can see the thin veneer of _everything is alright_ break behind his eyes. With one last hug, he places a kiss on the crown of my head, "I love you, Amory. Give 'em hell."

I nod as we part, and pause only to pick up my holster – beat up leather in a faded black; far more convenient to carry than a purse and not nearly as cumbersome as a backpack. I make sure my phone and I.D. are secure within the left side pocket and then head for the door. Liam sees me off in my beat up Geo with one last hug from the driver's seat. I settle my hands on the sun-bleached steering wheel and start the engine, and there's suddenly a dull ache building in the pit of my stomach; something is pushing me to go to Washington, and I don't think it's just this hunt anymore. I _need _to go there, to get to the bottom of the sudden vortex of weirdness I find myself in. I can almost hear Liam in my head at the thought

_Be careful, mon petite chat – curiosity is the curse of your kind._

but as I turn into major traffic, I let those happier memories slide away and get ready for what might be my last ride.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer

* * *

Driven

I don't bother giving Los Angeles a glance in the rear view mirror; I'll miss Liam, but that city could fall into a pit tomorrow sans him and I wouldn't give a goddamn – it's a piss hole. I sing along loudly and animatedly to the Beastie Boys blaring through my speakers, because by the time I'm on Interstate 5 going north, I need a distraction. I'm already pissed; I've got pretty awful road rage when I'm around idiots, and that's all there ever is on the freeway. It's a sixteen and a half hour drive, give or take how much I decide to break the speed limit, and I'm banking on getting there in thirteen despite the less than sporty car I'm driving. While Seattle _is_ where I'm certain the three I've been hunting are headed, for now I can't discount Olympia until I investigate. The lengthy drive gives me time to think about less than pleasant things, and despite my attempts to circumvent that with my music blasting at full volume; as afternoon turns to dusk I just can't shake the thoughts invading my head.

I hate how this whole mess started, how I'd just gotten back from my latest doctor's appointment and been blindsided by the terrible news; the kind where they tell you that your body is giving in the towel and leaving you behind – little over a year left; no miracle cure, no treatment that won't kill me quicker, nothing. And then, to add insult to injury, I get saddled with what should have been an easy job that turned into a shit-show real quick.

After trying for about a month to get a decent lead, I'd been denied by every contact I had; news spreads quickly through the ranks of the occult, even if half of them refuse to talk to each other. My new illness was no exception. I'd finally called in a favor with Diana, my one active semi-Volturi affiliated vampire contact who still has an in with the creepy bastards. She was reluctant to give me any information – probably because of Bryn, who'd just heard of the whole me dying thing – but she owed me a favor. Soon I'd been in New York, hot on the trail of three rouge vampires. I had no names, so called the two men and woman The Three Stooges. Stupid maybe, but I always take my humor where I can get it.

The trio is giving me more than a run for my money. I haven't felt this weak since I was a teenager, and I _hate_ it.

They've taken things to a scale too large to ignore, sometimes feeding on a dozen humans _each_ every month or so, and sloppily. It wasn't yet at the level warranting direct involvement by a crazy cult of vampires, A.K.A. the _real _Three Stooges in Volterra, but it was enough to have some of them – including Diana – concerned that they'd become involved soon enough.

No one wins when they get involved. And, I bet she'd thought that three bloodsuckers wouldn't give me a trouble in the world. Oh how I wish that were true.

The only reason I knew where they were going now was by that beat up journal I'd ripped off their base in SLC; careless of them. While Seattle is their preferred target, Olympia is mentioned too, and I don't doubt that if I catch them back to their old tricks in either of those cities, they'll go running to the vampire coven mentioned in the journal, in Forks. I'd heard about them briefly throughout the ranks of those associating with the Volturi.

But, you kind of think they'd live in Olympia to call themselves the _Olympic _coven, right? Unless they turn out to be a Parthenon of gods, I guess.

With vampires, they're bound to at least look the part.

I stop off near a blank slate of I-5 right outside of my destination, across the freeway from a road stop, with the intent of finally inscribing the tattoo. I check to make sure the small caravan of semi-trucks across the road isn't interested in my sudden stop, and then I check the lush green dotting the highway around me. As I settle my gaze back on the road, I feel the familiar sense of giddiness that the thought of a new mark brings. I reach into the duffle bag in the backseat, and as soon as my fist closes over the vial of venom, a gurgling scream tears itself through the still night.

My marks are burning in an instant, blood and venom coursing from my skin inwards. The sensation is intense – I'm covered in enough of these things to be strong enough to give a newborn a run for their money. Most Hunters focus on stealth and strategy…I can do those things, but not nearly as well as straight combat; I picked these marks to make me a war machine, a bruiser.

I just hope the fire in my veins doesn't exhaust me too quickly.

The road flies by me in the instant it takes to cross the highway, and their scent is in the air, thick and lingering decay, but quickly dissipating; gone already.

"You've _got _to be kidding me." I say flatly, standing to the side of one of the rest-stop buildings. In the flickering of the light around the corner, I see a hand lying across the gravel. When I finally skirt the wooden wall, I see the drained corpse of at first one trucker with blood in his beard and his head nearly severed from his body. There are four more as I survey the scene with my eyes, careful not to disturb anything. Two poor bastards were still sitting in their trucks, and there's one poor senseless hooker here as well, skirt still hiked up her hips and flung not far from where the man I presume hired her is ripped open by the throat. It's a gruesome scene I'm unfortunately used to, and while I believe in death as justice, who knows if these people had done anything wrong enough to warrant this. I settle back on my haunches for a moment, surveying the gruesome scene as I light up a cigarette. They must've attacked the three out in the open first and drained them slowly. Bite marks around the throat – something done to cut off the noise, they knew I was close. Once that was done, I imagine the scream I heard was one of the truckers still inside of his truck. He must've had a split second to try to call for help before they got him. They're most definitely gearing up for a fight, must've known I'd be on their tail. I catch the faintest hint of the female bloodsuckers' perfume, cheap and unpleasantly sweet, headed in the direction of the town indicated in the journal, away from Seattle – towards Forks.

Guilt tugs at me for being too late to stop this, but until I get a glass of whiskey, that's just going to stand.

There are things that have to be done to ensure that this looks like a bear attack, something like that – I get up, flick the remains of my smoke into the road and get to work. My marks flare again as I rip open the nearby locked dumpster and tip it over, strewing the contents over the area in the process. The rest of it I do without my awesome superpowers; regular trashcans are easy to kick over, and duplicating bear marks in the gravel isn't all that hard.

"Sorry about this, lady and gentleman – promise I'll kill these three one way or another."

With those parting words to the dead, frustrated and furious at being bested again, I sprint back to my car and settle myself in my patchwork seat, reaching for my tattoo kit once more. I set a breakneck pace as I carve the simple rune into my sternum, into the small blank space below the sprawling piece on my chest. Giving myself a tattoo with an old fashioned needle would be torture normally, and with this kind of ink, it's Hell itself. Every sharp prick drives the viscous, normally poisonous liquid into my flesh. It's a beautiful and simple mark, like a flower with just three petals and sharp lines, barely visible in the road lights. With this being so fresh, the scent of my blood will be masked, hopefully enough to fool them and any other vamps I may have to deal with.

And the ache in my body _does_ feel a bit better, though this tattoo will always be burning faintly against my skin until it's…No longer needed. But hey, silver linings right? I start my car again, saddened that I can't chase them as a Hunter would – screw driving, I should be _running_. The exertion of things is taking more out of me each day, it seems.

I need to keep as much strength up as I can, now. I've got a short drive and some assholes to ash.

* * *

(A/N: Thanks for reading! Just a little bit longer until our dear Amory crosses the line into the surreal town of Forks – I've got to build suspense or whatever.)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.

* * *

Another Strange Human

"Carlisle," A pixie-looking girl is distracted by her current mountain lion of a meal, and as her eyes focus somewhere on the future, they fill with excitement and uncertainty, "we'll be having some unexpected visitors."

The acting Cullen patriarch raises a pale brow at her, handsome features creasing in concern, "What do you see Alice?"

A copper-haired youth comes bounding into the clearing an instant later, already deep in her mind, seeing a picture clear as day. His eyes widen in shock when he sees the second world-shattering vision they've gotten in a week; first that Swan girl, now this. It starts slowly enough, a foggy picture of three vampires showing up soon on their doorstep, seeking help and finding none. Then things get…Strange.

"A hunter is coming," he sums up for her, disappointed that this is what he gets after leaving for a week, for trying not to screw everything up for his dark haired sister and her supposed future human mate. He regrets his blunt choice of words, however, when he realizes the rest of the family has joined them. He hadn't noticed his mother or other sister enter the clearing, and Esme's eyebrows shoot up, her face a beautiful maternal picture of concern, and the icy blond throws him a scathing glance before setting her hand on the caramel haired woman's shoulder, a comforting gesture meant to ease her stress that's returned with a small smile.

"Why? Who is sending him?" With a hand over his mouth trying to clear away blood but instead just smearing it, the burly man's questions are muffled as he crosses the clearing to his sister.

"_She's_ not being _sent,_ Emmett_._ There are three vampires – I can't see the details, but it seems like she's been after them a while. She scared them near Olympia, so they're going to try to come here."

"Is there any way around this?"

After all, Carlisle was almost a hunter once; the Volturi may think them toothless now, but he's not so sure.

Short dark hair flies everywhere as Alice shakes her head quickly, "No! Even if there was, we need her here!"

"_Another_ human? Really? What is this new fetish you have with them?" Rosalie's tone is sharp, condemning.

Jasper stands to the side, caught in a whirlwind of emotion – shame, anger, shock, fear; the barest hint of anticipation…The turbulence sets him instantly on edge. His stomach lurches as something dark, something savage rises within him. He manages to choke it down, but not without effort. It catches him completely off guard, and he does his best to try to stop from feeling anything but his own suddenly fevered emotions for a moment. He notices Carlisle glance at him, and does the best he can to hide the anxiety he's sure he's broadcasting.

"Not for _me,_" the brunette retorts, rolling her eyes, "I don't have the best read on it yet, but she's not going to hurt us." Her eyes flicker briefly over to her blond-haired brother before locking with her acting fathers again.

She's got a good read on it – but why spoil the fun?

"Excellent!" Emmett grins, "Do you think she'll fight me? Just to see who's stronger, of course."

Rosalie rolls her eyes at her husband, "I love you, but you're an idiot." Tired at the talk of humans; she rises to stalk off for more prey on the way home, clearly done with the current situation. Always and never practical; that's Rosalie.

"I haven't seen a hunter in a long, _long_ time," Carlisle's voice is quiet in contemplation; the slight change in tone is all the prompting Esme needs to cross to her husband's side and grab his hand.

"Are you certain she won't threaten our life here, Alice?"

With a wide grin, she bobs her head up and down, "We'll be fine, she'll be fine, all of it will be fine!"

"You keep saying the same thing about the Swan girl," Edward groans, jaw clenching as he thinks about her blood.

Jasper's throat burns as well; after all, he can feel the pull of Edwards singer almost as strongly as the mind-reader himself – a drawback of his empathic connection with his family. He pushes it down as Alice's emotions flicker to concern as soon as Edward mentions Bella Swan, the new girl; it's certainly making another cycle as a high school student more interesting, but at what cost? The pixie hadn't hid an ounce of her vision from her family, especially not that she was meant to be with Swan, a human girl – and would eventually change her. Now, in less than three hours, they'll have another problem on their doorstep.

And how they should deal with the situation has everyone at a loss. While hunters aren't always ruthless and sanctimonious about destroying their kind, they still have to treat this with caution.

The clairvoyant woman's large eyes go even wider, caught up in the future, "We've got to hurry though! We'll be just in time, and we can't be late!"

While trying to keep a grasp on calm for everyone's sake, Jasper tears into the forest in search of more prey on the way back to Forks to prepare for the arrival of another strange human.

* * *

A/N: Sorry about the re-post of this, I was doing edits and caught something I didn't like. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.

* * *

Screwed

I arrive at the house a little under two hours later, thankful that the one thing John ever taught me worth a damn was reckless driving. Not the truth, but it's better than saying that ruthless bastard taught me everything; that's more credit than he deserves.

The closer I get to Forks, the more I can feel a smile tugging at my lips at the thought of the thrill of a hunt. This is all I've ever known, and the feeling is always the same; everything seems to vibrate with excited, nervous energy the closer I get to my prey. The trail brings me to a semi-long driveway, and at the end of it standing in the middle of a grove of pine trees is a sprawling white house, bright even in the darkness of early _early _morning. At the bottom of the porch stairs stand The Three Stooges, pale skin highlighted in the beams of my headlights. I turn my car off, starting to fire up my marks one by one – I'd usually be able to use most of them simultaneously, but now I have to be a bit more conservative. My grin from earlier widens, fueled by adrenaline and the compounds coursing through my veins. I leave my radio on, blaring Iron Maiden.

I step out of my car, not feeling the chilly January air on my burning skin. I pace in front of the porch, eyeing the three in front of me, trying to place how this will play out – it buys me time, though I've been told being in a staring match with an androgynous-except-her-outfits-and-ridiculous-hair-hunter is less than intimidating. Intimidation isn't really my thing though - catching people off guard is.

"Who do you think –"

"You are? The Three Stooges, duh." I continue my pacing, "You know, you lucked out with this song." I stop my pacing and stand center in front of the porch, boots planted firmly in the grass, "Two Minutes to Midnight is fucking rad_._ Not everyone gets so lucky with their send-off shuffle – I had some poor necromancer go listening to Jewel a few months ago. _Jewel._ It was embarrassing for everyone."

"You just wait, bitch! There's no way you can kill us, this coven won't be gone long."

I assess the trio in front of me clearly for the first time; the woman is voluptuous, barefoot with a tattered dress and fur wrap slung casually around her shoulders. Wild curly hair as red as her eyes flies in the wind, and she smiles down at me with deceptive, terrible beauty, trying to make me flinch; I pretend to look unnerved. I'm not; she doesn't know that, though, and I can see premature victory shine in her eyes. It's always good to let your enemy underestimate you, something they've clearly won at up to this point. I've been underestimating them since I got into this.

The two men flanking her are very different; one has dreadlocks cascading gracefully down his back, and his red eyes flash with curiosity in his dark, angled face. I can tell that while he's pretending to lead this little rag tag group by standing slightly in front, I know instantly that that isn't the case. Standing beside the woman is man, tall and unassuming, with normal features and a deceptively lanky build. He's dangerous, all my instincts and training tell me so – he's standing to try to offset his dominance, looking to the man in the lead for guidance he doesn't need; cunning as a fox, this one.

"We're –"

"Let me guess, let me guess!" I say, bouncing up and down in mock excitement. I point at the head of the trio, the one who's been speaking in a faint accent, "Frenchie here is Larry." I look at the woman, deciding something common will piss her off, "Red – you're _obviously_ Curly." Finally my gaze rests on the one left, the pretending-to-be-not-a-leader leader, "Stretch will be Mo. They say all vampires are gorgeous, but you really disprove that, dontcha?"

"We've done nothing!" he snarls in response; so typical.

Keep them talking long enough and you can choreograph a fight from beginning to end before it even starts. I let a leisurely smile grace my face as he talks, savoring the adrenaline coursing through me, "Oh, I don't know about _nothing_." My grin turns to a snarl, lips pulled back over my teeth, my grin now humorless, "_Nothing; _the audacity. I saw what you did near Olympia, I saw what you did before that in four other cities. It's obvious you guys aren't all that bright, so let me spell it out. My name is Rory, and you fucked up big time."

The two men come at me at once, obviously wanting to catch me off guard. Stretch gets to me first, giving me a perfect opportunity to use his own momentum to send him flying into Frenchie. The woman is on me in an instant, fighting me tooth and nail. My tattoos burn as they protect me and the blaze only serves to fuel my frenzy. I manage to get her to the ground, getting her in a hold that nearly allows me to snap her head off, except that at the last moment a pair of arms locks around my neck. I'm able to struggle to my feet, Red currently forgotten, and with all the force I can muster I throw my attacker off. It's that French fuck in the ridiculous coat; I kick him savagely and squarely in the chest and he flies back a few feet, landing hard on his back, leaving a giant dent in the earth around him. I try to turn my attention back to Red, but I'm slammed into by the leader of the Three Stooges into the grass. He lands on top of me, driving my back into the grass as he lands a few swift punches to my face and chest. Throwing my body around wildly, I finally manage to flip onto my stomach and find my knees, and I fling him from my back away from the house and his friends. I stagger to my feet, realizing that for the first time in years, I've got such little energy compared to how much I need to power my marks that my nose starts bleeding from the stress. I can feel the slickness of it coating my face and the front of my shirt.

Red comes at me, rage written clearly in her face; that same fury betrays all her movements. We scuffle for a brief moment, and she gets in a lucky punch – it catches me, hard, on the left side of the face. The blow sends me reeling in pain, and I'm sure I'm going to have a _lovely_ bruise there, but I hold fast. Grinning at her – a gesture I'm sure looks gruesome as hell with my lips and teeth coated in venom laced blood – I launch myself from my spot straight at her. As she swings to get in another vicious punch, I grab her arm and wrench it behind her. She tries in vain to shake me, and in response I apply even more pressure. Frenchie pulls at me from behind, and eventually I have to relent tearing her arm off to deal with the annoyance.

As soon as Red is out of my arms the three flee, lost in a blur of pale and red. I stare at their figures retreating into the dark woods, and let rage replace exhaustion, "_You pansy assholes, I'm done with this wild __**fucking **__goose chase! I'm going to stay right here; come back to Forks, I dare you!_ _**I fucking dare you!**_"

As my voice turns into a faint echo, I touch the already tender left side of my face and as soon as my fingertips make contact pain starts throbbing in my eye socket. The newest mark on my chest is burning faintly, but seems to be doing little for my current pain. Or, a scary thought, it's doing a lot for my pain and it's just _that _bad. I stagger back to my car and turn the key to kill the battery, killing the song during the last chorus. I slump in the tattered seat; that small action was all I had left in me. I really don't want to be caught this vulnerable by a coven of unknown vamps, but I'm all out of juice – screwed.

As I heave in a few breaths scented strongly of blood, pine trees, and damp earth, my eyes flicker to the clearly empty house. In my delirium, I can't help but be reminded of a fairytale; with the multiple stories and bright white paint, it looks a lot like a magical refuge in the woods. Only these won't be any seven dwarves finding me, and even if it was I'd go with it; I'd rather be found by anything at this point than just wasting away in my car. It's a good thing those three decided to quit the field, or I'd be dead dead instead of dying dead.

The weird things you think about before you lose consciousness, right? As I see a figure break the tree-line, I try to keep myself cognizant, but it's useless.

My already aching head lurches forward and hits the steering wheel, and that's all she wrote.


	5. Chapter 5

(Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.)

* * *

The Hunter

Jasper is the first to sense her, and not by her scent.

The anticipation of a fight hits him hard. He's off in front of the rest of the family, fueled by the need for a fight; even from here he can discern her emotions so vividly it's next to impossible to suppress them all. Carlisle calls him back, tries to calm him down, but it's useless. He manages to scale his sudden and intense connection to the unknown woman back slightly, but not a minute later, a mere few miles from Forks, her mood shifts entirely again. _Miles – _it shouldn't be possible to detect anything this far out. The dark force in his mind slams against his restraints as he's suddenly filled with a lust for violence that makes him feel transported back into his old life. Forcing himself to a sudden stop, refusing to reach her first in the fear of doing anything rash, he hears her voice ring out in the night. The statements are laced with profanity as she screams at the top of her lungs, accompanied by loud music, but the rough yet still dulcet tone of her voice still has his heart lurching in his chest. As Edward passes him he finally trusts he's stable enough to try and detect her again again; drained, next to dead, and he should have left it alone because now his own fear is now adding to the mix. He can't stop reading her as waves of defeat and fury reach him next, spurring him to motion again through the forest less than a mile away – the feelings get stronger the closer they get to home. Reading his thoughts that they might find the hunter dead on their doorstep, Edward reaches for her mind, and a grim look crosses his face, "We need to hurry."

The family breaks the tree line near their house seconds later, and are met by…Not the horrific scene everyone but Alice expected.

An unassuming dark green Geo Metro, well-worn and sad, is sitting askew in their front yard. In front of that are large dents in the dirt. The scene of the fight looks empty; just as Rosalie is about to impatiently ask what exactly is going on, the wind shifts.

Then, there it is; her blood and heartbeat, both so faint they're almost almost undetectable. Her fragrance is all warm spun sugar and caramel…And also oddly but not unpleasantly bitter; Jasper finds his mouth watering with venom in response, even the slight smell of it setting his throat aflame in something that's not quite thirst. Carlisle, ever in doctor mode, is the first at the woman's side. As he pulls her out of the car everyone gasps.

She's tinier than they expected, not quite as small as their resident pixie, built with lithe muscle and not much else. Her injuries are highlighted by the moon and everyone stays rooted to their spots when they see she's soaked in blood, but for as much is running down her face and soaking her shirt, there should be much more of the aroma in the air.

The empath stands still as a statue, committing the sight of the woman to memory even as she hangs limply in his adopted father's arms.

She's striking, her strong features seemingly plucked from a renaissance painting of a nymph – the sloping forehead, regal nose, and strong chin – and placed in the here and now. The only difference is her mop of a Mohawk; a dark, shaggy and wavy sticking up every which way on her head. Thick, dark brows crease together over her almond eyes as a small frown tugs at her lips in her sleep. He unwittingly sends tranquility out to her.

Then he notices the tattoos glimmering almost ominously on her lightly-tanned olive skin. The black and red marks don't interest him nearly as much as the one's shining pearlescent in the pale light. They cover nearly every visible inch of her, save her head and face. Small ones dot her neck, giving way to large pieces covering her arms and chest. They sprawl down her shoulders, and the exposed skin on her stomach is also covered in them. In the spaces in between, scars like his own shimmer along; not as extensive from what he can see, but numerous all the same.

He can't shut down his emotions, even though he knows he should. Every part of her that had him nearly aching for her an instant ago is lost as rage grips him; his entire being screams for retribution to right the wrongs done to her. Once again he struggles to gain control of himself; he latches on to Emmett's laid-back attitude and emulates it. It helps, though just barely.

She's not conventionally beautiful, but she's got him awestruck and close to coming unhinged; she's dangerous even when she's on deaths door, it seems.

"We need to get her inside, now. Esme, draw a bath; I'll need you and Alice to clean her up. Rosalie, would you please get her a change of clothes?" Carlisle shifts the humans limp body as he starts for the house, delivering his orders with all the authority of a surgeon.

"Are we really doing this?" Edward stops his father, less than convinced this is a good idea, and Jasper feels the nearly insatiable urge to rend his arms from his body. This woman needs help, and his need to help her is inexplicable.

His face falls, and he slips to disbelief and terror. _Oh. Oh, no._

"She's _friendly_," Alice insists.

"Oh, great; I'll be sure to keep that in mind if she goes off the handle and kills us all." Rosalie says humorlessly, staring in distaste at the bloodstained woman hanging lifelessly in the doctors arms.

"She needs help; we'll discuss what her plans are _after_ she wakes up."

The three women finally disperse, though Rosalie is none too happy with the prospect of housing a hunter with unseen intentions, not to mention having to _share_ with a human. She's become more than a bit wary of Alice's visions lately.

As soon as Carlisle starts for the house, Jasper is in motion; Emmett grabs him before he can run after them, misreading his intention. The shallow trust they have in his control stings for a moment, but only until the hunter disappears into the house. Helplessness and relief in equal fill him in equal measures – being separated from her gives him time to collect his thoughts, but not knowing if she's going to die or live…

Edward looks at his brother and wishes he would stop the inner conflict currently tearing at his mind; it's getting tiring to keep up with. The blond runs from the house, unable to be near her without seeing her and too torn by his thoughts and the mind-reader settles in next to Emmett – though, the break in the whirlwind of anxious uncertainty he had hoped for doesn't come.

As far as feelings go, Jasper is quickly spiraling through them all during his mad dash through the forest. Alice's connection to Swan he had read through her emotions, and experiencing that was one thing, but the absolute _longing_ for a woman he doesn't know, a hunter who might want them all dead, is something so powerful he's not sure of what to do or what's going to happen.

_There's no way she's my soul mate. She _can't_ be._

He knows the statement is untrue as soon as he thinks it. How could this happen? She might not be a normal human, she might be able to protect herself, but it's still so risky. When she wakes up she'll notice the pull, too; what if she doesn't want to? What if the very thought of being with a vampire abhors the hunter who is already claiming his heart?

An even more terrifying thought – what if it doesn't?

He stays away as long as he can, thinking of all the ways this could go wrong until the sun starts staining the dark sky with color and his being aches too badly for her. It's time to have a _long_ talk with Alice about what she's really seen in the future.

* * *

(A/N: I think it's fairly obvious, but in this story when Alice found Jasper it stayed a platonic relationship – they're just adopted siblings. This is the last third person chapter for a while; I just like first person so much more. As always, thanks for the read!)


	6. Chapter 6

Twenty Questions

The light I'm met with upon waking does nothing for the pounding headache already threatening to turn my brain to jelly. Not surprising, seeing as the last things I can currently recall are getting screwed over again and hitting my steering wheel with my face. As I stare at the ceiling, the events of last night slowly come back to me in full, and I get the sinking feeling that I'll have a _lot_ of questions to answer. Good thing I like talking.

My groan of pain is ear-shattering in the deadly quiet house as I hoist my upper half into a sitting position with some difficulty and swing my legs over the side of the bed I'm currently in. I notice my blood soaked shirt is replaced with a plain white tee, along with a pair of sweatpants in lieu of my jeans. I rest my head in my hands and instantly regret it as pain flares white hot on the left side of my face. The new mark on my chest is burning faintly, keeping the hardest edges of the pain and cold away.

"Good call with that, at least," I give myself a slight verbal pat on the back, absorbed in my thoughts as I throw a cursory glance around the tidy room. I really hope it was a woman who bathed and re-dressed me; I might not be that lady-like, well, at all lady-like…I have my morals, though.

Sometimes.

"How are you feeling?" I nearly jump out of my skin at the unexpected voice and leap to my feet. The blaze of my marks is back, but only momentarily; I quickly collapse to my feet, the brief shot of venom and foreign blood to my veins leaving me gasping in pain. The man is beside me in an instant, his cold hand sending a jolt through my body as I take it to haul myself to my feet again. Once I've got my legs back underneath me, I stretch slightly and lightly touch the tender side of my face, looking warily at the tall blond bloodsucker in front of me as he smiles apologetically, "I didn't mean to startle you, I'm sorry." He looks nice enough, he apologized, and he hasn't tried drinking me dry yet, so I roll with it. Gold eyes, though…That's kind of weird.

"Sorry to show up on your doorstep," I say with a laugh – or I try to say with a laugh; it hurts too damn bad. "Truthfully? I feel like I've gone ten rounds with a semi-truck. Does it look as bad as it feels?" I smile in reflex and grimace slightly as the pain flares again. This sucks – as far as my charm goes, smiling is all I got left.

"Not nearly, I'm sure," his face is kind as he assesses me, "I'm Carlisle Cullen, and it's a pleasure to meet you...?"

"Name's Amory," I look around the room before glancing down at myself, "nice to meet you. I assure you I'm usually much more…Professional than this." Yeah, right. Much more awake is what I mean.

"About that," he begins, an authoritative note edging into his tone, "Would you mind explaining a few things?"

"Can I –"

"We would prefer to speak to you as soon as possible, if you don't object." So I don't try any funny business, he means.

"We?"

"My family and I." He says earnestly.

"No time like the present, I guess." I assent to his request and incline my head towards the door, wanting to get this upcoming round of twenty questions over with so I can do something about my hobo appearance. As I ruffle my bedhead into something a little less messy – wishful thinking – I set a friendly-but-not-too-broad-because-ouch smile on my face and think about what I told the Three Stooges. I am done running; obviously I can't push myself to hunt actively anymore. I know those _fuckers _will be back, and I think maybe I'm ready to set up shop here. There's a throbbing in my face and a burning on my skin, but the ache in my heart that was mounting before coming here is…Gone. That's good, so now I get to see whether or not me staying in Forks is objected to.

Carlisle leads me out into a hallway and down a flight of stairs. I take down as much detail as I can, but all I can notice is how damn bright everything is; my headache makes it impossible _not _to notice. Everything decorating the house is either a light monochrome or a watercolor, the floors are a nice light hardwood with light carpet intermixed. It's…Really nice and _too_ surreal as I pad through a house inhabited by vampires, barefoot and in what amounts to pajamas. The back wall would usually probably be pretty nice too, a giant window looking out at the lush green scenery, but it just makes me want to cry; even the overcast day outside is far too much for me. We head into what looks to be the dining area, and surrounding a table are five vampires looking at me with mixed expressions.

The first one I see is tall with platinum hair cascading in graceful waves to the center of her back, eyes in gold instead of red surveying my every movement like a hawk. She looks less than thrilled to have me as a guest, and I can't say I blame her; hopefully explanations will smooth things over. A large, muscled man with short dark hair and a friendly, wide grin has his arm slung casually around the blonde bombshell. The two other women – one with a shock of jet black hair and petite in every way, the other a living replica of a caramel-haired fifties housewife complete with a winsome smile – flit over and fuss about my health for just a minute, spit firing questions faster than I can keep up with. But I'm only half paying attention to them.

Another pair of aurum orbs observe me from a corner of the table. Thick lashes flutter as he blinks, slightly dark brows creasing downwards in concern as a guilty look crosses his face for a fleeting moment. His countenance changes and he offers me a cautious smile, and I'm embarrassed to say it takes me a minute to tear my attention away from his lips – they're all too pretty. Thick, wavy honey blond hair hits just above his jawline, drawing out beautiful angles in his face. I see more than a few faint scars like my own poking out from beneath a long sleeved shirt, and while they scream danger, they're also driving me more than a little wild.

In short, he's Eros, and I'm in trouble – and definitely staying in Forks now. Goddamn vampires _and_ their good looks; this just isn't fair. I _knew_ I shouldn't have cracked that Parthenon joke, even in my head. I jinxed myself.

Carlisle draws me back into reality by pulling out a chair for me. I plop down against the hard surface, trying to unscramble my thoughts enough to answer questions. The room goes dead quiet as everyone seems to be at a loss for words. I'd kill for a glass of _whatever_ to deal with this awkwardness. I fold my hands on the table in front of me still too exhausted to know where to begin.

To my surprise, a fancy smoked tumbler glass is placed in front of me and an ornate bottle of an amber liquid I assume is whiskey is plunked down next to it. I look up at the lanky, copper haired guy responsible as I pull the stopper, considering him warily as I pour a couple of shots into the glass.

"Please tell me you aren't a mind reader."

"I'm Edward," he gives me a look tinged with pity and understanding that tells me he knows _everything_. Damn it.

"Well…Fuck," I down half the glass of what turns out to be scotch in front of me as muscles starts to laugh across the table, "Since Professor Xavier over here knows, I might as well get the important stuff out of the way: I'm Amory Belmont, I'm twenty seven and a hunter, as you can tell – I came here on the tail of three vampires, but they got away last night. I…I have leukemia, which really sucks; the doctors give me a little over a year."

A wave of grief so thick and alien rises in me it nearly closes my throat, burning worse than the liquor. I choke on my words, but I drown the feeling in another swig and continue. Not that I need to, but I tend to babble in uncomfortable situations, "Call me Rory though, Amory is just so…Formal. It's uh…Nice to meet you all, hope I haven't ashed any friends or relatives, hah...Do you have food? Wishful thinking, but I would _love_ a bagel."

I expect…I don't know what I expect. Silence? Disbelief? – Pity laughter, mostly. I feel like closing in on myself until I feel the slightest spark of genuine amusement.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Amory. I'm Esme, Carlisle's wife," the woman with bronze hair introduces herself elegantly, a warm maternal smile gracing her face before she sways elegantly out of the room.

"I'm Alice! It's lovely to meet you!" The pixie like woman with dark hair is obviously energetic, and I can tell she wants to jump out of her chair and give me a hug; she just seems like the type. She frowns slightly as she takes in the left side of my face and what I assume is the world's gnarliest bruise.

Muscles grin widens even more as he introduces himself, "I'm Emmett, and this _lovely_ lady here is Rosalie." The blonde next to him huffs at being introduced and doesn't offer any sort of conversation, just keeps her narrowed countenance trained on me. A plate with a bagel on it, cream cheese on the side, is put in front of me – Esme's doing.

I stare, mouth agape. Who cares if I look idiotic; this, a round of _friendly _introductions mixed with some weird foreign fuzzy feeling and a bagel is the last thing I expected. I'd have thought this scenario less likely than me being a monkey's uncle.

Edward stifles a chuckle, and as I turn to glare at him I realize there's only person at the table whose name I don't know, and as he meets my gaze with those soft saffron eyes my heart starts thundering in my chest against my will. That small, unsure smile is back.

"My name is Jasper; it's wonderful to meet you Rory."

It's like falling, whatever this feeling is. I think I have a grasp on happiness or fondness or a little dose of fear, and then it just flows into something else. This is some weird version of Heaven, Hell, or both, but I don't want it to stop. I chastise myself in my head for _repeatedly _having such inane notions – I'm dying soon, **hello**? I catch the faintest of smirks sour on Edward's face.

_ Out of my head, Professor._ I think loudly, and he rolls his eyes in response.

"So Amory, from last night's events I can assume you won't be on your way?" Carlisle sits opposite the table to me, looking pensive as he tries to discern my motives.

"_Hah,_" It's a drawn out mockery of a real laugh. "Sorry about all the yelling – I was pissed." I glance around the table sheepishly. I'm not used to other people seeing the off the handle Rory – I usually try to give as little of a fuck about most things as possible, which amounts to me being pretty even-tempered. Most of the time, not all of the time. Biting my lip, I look at my drink, trying to find the right words.

"I'm in a very…_Unfamiliar_ position, Mr. Cullen. I'm no longer well enough to actively hunt, that's painfully obvious." I can't look up; it's an embarrassing admission.

_"_You can call me Carlisle," his tone is soft, comforting.

"What all do you know about hunters?"

"The basics; what the Volturi tell us about your kind." Carlisle offers.

"Oh, I imagine they'd say a great deal about me." Imagining the look on those three old bastards faces the last time I walked out of Volterra makes me grin regardless of the pain. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know and whatever _I _know about how we work…We'll, I don't really know that there is a _we _anymore. I've been on my own for thirteen years, and 'we' tend to give each other wide berths." Not to mention if I ever ran into John again things would get messy. I take another sip of scotch and savor the lovely burn then take a deep breath.

"I'm just a first line of defense when things get out of hand. I don't think I'm on some clandestine mission from God or whatever to erase evil from the world. One of my best friends is a bloodsucker – er, vampire. The point is I don't mean you any harm – man, that makes me sound like I'm in some stock sci-fi flick. I like it here so far, so I have a proposal for you; I'll stay on watchtower detail until I can no longer perform my duties. Washington seems like a nice place to live out the rest of my days, brief as they are."

"'Watchtower detail'? I think we need more explanation than _that."_

_ "_You can't be turned, right?"

"I know a house for rent! It's perfect!"

"Why _do_ you do this?"

I'm hit with all of this at once, first by Rosalie, then Emmett and Alice, and finally Carlisle. I bring my fingers to my temple and try like hell to process my answers quickly. I finish my drink and push the bottle away, savoring the burn numbing my pain before responding, "Watchtower is just what it sounds like; if there are places with a large number of the occult, a hunter can choose to stay in the area and pick off the bad eggs that way. We're usually pretty nomadic, but this can be a sound strategy, especially for the…Old or sick. Home-field advantage _and_ supernatural elements always seem to find a way to conflux, for good or bad. It's a very informal truce, basically; you don't kill people and I don't kill you. I can help you take care of any problems that might arise; I'm still pretty good at this whole kicking ass thing - when I don't almost die. Plus…Those three might _not_ come back, but I wouldn't bet on that; I intend to finish the job I started.

"I do this because it's what I do, don't think about the _why_ much anymore. I can't become a vampire, and I can explain, but after that I'd like to ask some questions of my own if it's alright."

"What's the catch?" Rosalie regards me suspiciously; seems she's a bit of a cynical type.

"No catch, no charge; standard operating procedure for me. I don't do this for my own gain. This arrangement beats having a scene like last night go south. _More_ south." I can't keep the tired edge out of my voice as I look around the table. "So, you're right, I can't be turned; our first mark uses our blood for ink, meaning that even when our bodies are coursing with compounds not our own, not all of us is changed. They used to call it all kinds of off the wall shit back in the day, I just call it the first mark, first tattoo, whatever.

"I can be bitten if I get sloppy fighting, but the venom has no more effect on me than it usually does. No immortality for me."

Jasper catches my gaze again, and I can't take the look of despair reflected in their depths. Shifting my attention back to Carlisle, I cock my head to the side, "May I?"

"Go right ahead, Amory." I can tell Carlisle and Esme much prefer using my given name than my nickname.

"I can see why you choose Forks; Washington is notorious for being sun-free." I pull my legs up in my chair and sit with them crossed under me, bagel in hand, settling in for a story, "Let's start with the elephant in the room; no red eyes, so you don't drink human blood, do you?"

"We abstain from drinking human blood and opt instead to hunt the larger predators in the area. Our '_vegetarian'_ diet makes our eyes gold instead of red." He looks at Jasper for just a second, and I see something a little tense pass between them, "It's a bit more difficult for some than others."

"_'Vegetarian,'" _I chuckle, "that's cute. Just don't tell me about hunting mountain lions – I have a soft spot for cats." I smile, small as to not irritate my bruises, trying to put everyone at ease and as I glance around the table from face to face and know exactly what I'm going to ask next, "So, the Professor can read minds. Anyone else here have more than standard superpowers?" I take a bite of my bagel, plain. I don't think my stomach can handle cream cheese and scotch.

"I have the gift of precognition; I can see the future – or at least possible futures. Everything changes depending on individual choices." Alice speaks with some degree of pride.

She's followed quickly by an anxious sounding Jasper, "I…Can control and manipulate emotions." He must sense my sudden tense curiosity, because his tawny eyes go wide and his slight southern accent slips out stronger as he offers a rushed explanation, "I don't use it when I don't have to, though."

I lean back a little, wondering just _how_ much of my earlier feelings he read, "Well, it certainly won't be boring here."

Wariness slips into elation, and I don't know which of us is responsible for my sudden sunny disposition, but if it's him I could sure get used to having him around, especially in the months to come. As if sensing this, he ditches his usually pained face and _really _smiles. My cheeks flush, despite my brain trying to tell them not to. This is stupid, _really _stupid. That _fucking _accent though; he's got me all ruffled, and while it's sinfully pleasant, I hate being ruffled. I'm too old for this school girl crush bullshit– literally on deaths door, too.

Trying to shake off these damnable _musings_, I continue on with my questioning, looking every so often to a certain blond more often than I'd care to admit, "So, what's your cover? What do you do here in Forks?"

"I'm the lead surgeon at Forks hospital, Esme is my wife. Alice, Emmett, and Edward use Cullen as their last name, Rosalie and Jasper use Hale. They're our adopted children."

I get the feeling that this setup isn't far from the true dynamic of the coven. I throw one arm over the back of my chair casually, finishing my bagel, amused, "Five 'teenagers', do people really believe you're _that_ crazy? What do the rest of you do here?"

"We're high school students," Alice offers.

I give a graceless laugh, "Being immortal is worth _piss_ if you have to keep going through high school. I don't think I grabbed the short end of the stick here."

Every time I swear I see the Doc cringe. Does no one around here curse? That just isn't healthy.

"It can be challenging," Jasper speaks up, looking almost relieved when my eyes meet his again.

"All that blood, all those thoughts and emotions…Forget _that; _just talking about it makes me..." _Want to die_ I would have usually said, but I've been trying to cut back on those sorts of statements as of late; for some reason they seem to make people uncomfortable.

All I can say is if being immortal did mean having to go through high school again, I _would_ rather die. There's a reason I dropped out – it sucks.

I unfold my legs from under me and prop my elbows on the table, bagel finished, "Anything else I need to know?"

"This isn't usually something I'd bring up with a new guest, but you're a special case. We have a treaty with the Quileute tribe –"

"Filthy mutts," Rosalie mutters, shifting slightly under Emmett's giant arm.

"They're shape shifters," Carlisle continues as if uninterrupted, "specifically, a wolf pack. It's a long story, but the short of it is we stay off their land and don't bite any humans, and they keep our secret and let us be."

"Here I thought I could live out the rest of my days quietly," I say facetiously, "but like they say, ain't no rest for the wicked. I've got _plenty_ more questions, but nothing that can't wait…That is, if you don't object to putting up with me for a year, give or take." My attention darts back to the doctor, and he glances around the table at varying levels of approval.

Rosalie is the only one who still looks outright against it, but even so the acting patriarch puts it to a vote; good ol' democracy. Everyone but her votes me into watchtower detail, but I don't take it too personally; I'd be pretty suspicious too if I was living peacefully and a strange hunter showed up half dead on my doorstep.

"Well, I believe that answers that," everyone at the table smiles - even the cold blonde does so, albeit begrudgingly - as Carlisle holds his hand out to me, "Welcome to Forks, Amory."

I shake it firmly, "Much appreciated, and I promise you won't regret it." I look over at Alice, who is almost hopping out of her seat in joy. "So, where's that rental?"

Her face breaks into an ecstatic grin when I ask, "Get dressed, let's go!" I laugh at her enthusiasm and get unsteadily to my feet, trying not to jar my aching body as I walk to the front door. The scotch definitely helped the pain, but I'm still stiff.

Before I have a chance to grasp the handle, a scarred pale hand beats me to it.

"I can grab your things for you, Rory – If you don't mind." Jasper's eyes gesture over my shoulder briefly, "Alice will help you up the stairs."

I frown up at him; I know he's right and I shouldn't be meandering about in my sorry state, but I'm just tired and sore, not broken – not yet. I glance at the door around him and then meet his steady stare again, deciding to bite the argument on my tongue, "There's a duffle bag in the backseat with all my stuff in it. Thanks, Jasper." I say the last part lowly, and when I flush red again, that pained look returns on his face.

I decide not to bring up the obvious; the newness of my most recent mark is fading, and without venom running through my veins the scent of my blood back full force, I'm sure. Turning from him, my face and body throbbing in synchronization, I make my way towards Alice who is on the stairs. In an instant there's a cool pair of tiny arms around me, and then we're at the top of the landing. "I'm glad someone can use their speed; I was dreading that," I say in way of thanks as I open the door to the bathroom.

As I walk over the threshold Jasper appears behind Alice and it brings an unwarranted grin to my lips. My mind blares at me, again, how ridiculous I am for these thoughts. He deposits my duffle bag on the counter and retreats from the bathroom, and I catch his smile fall again as he leaves. Deciding I'll ask Alice about it on our way to my possible new crash pad, I shut the door and take out my cell phone before rummaging through my clothes.

Bryn will pull through for me – even after our last conversation.

* * *

(A/N: Only took me seven chapters to get here ha.)

(Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.)


	7. Chapter 7

Dramatics

The phone rings once, and I contemplate hanging up as soon as I hear the sound. I don't because I can't, for two reasons – I need some financial help seeing as I'm as poor as a church mouse, and Bryn answers a heartbeat later, Scandinavian accent thick with irritation.

"_Amory_. Calling to apologize?"

"Hello to you too, _Brynjar_," I snort, pulling a few articles of clothing out of my bag.

I hear a half-strangled sigh on the other side of the line, "You're such a pain in my ass."

Switching my hold on the phone to pin it between my ear and shoulder, I shed the sweatpants, "Well, I'm about to cause you a lot more grief, bloodsucker."

"You just told me you're dying a month ago, and _now_ you've got something _else_?" He sounds more than incredulous – he's livid.

"I admit, it was…" I pause, groaning uncomfortably at the tense tone of the conversation as I wiggle my pants on, "awful of me to _call_ and tell you _that_ kind of information. I am sorry, and I'd love to have a chance to visit with you before, well…You know, but things _have_ changed. I –"

"Do you need more venom already? Alford called and told me you went to see him, you know. Don't be such a masochist, Rory. _Slow down._ I'd hate to see you hit the grave even sooner than you have to."

"I swear to God, you two are going to be the death of me; the doctors have it all wrong, it won't be the leukemia, it'll be you two annoying me. I need money for a place to stay, not venom. I've…Got a steady supply where I am now if I need it." I assess the damage to my face as we talk. I have a giant purple and blue bruise on the outside of my left eye, and one of Stretch's punches must've connected without me knowing, because my jaw on the same side is in the same shape.

"…Belmont, what the **Hell **does that mean?" He's suspicious, and it's always serious when he uses my last name; I can imagine his face forming the infamous Bryn death stare, where his mouth pulls down to the extreme and his eyebrows furrow almost all the way in. It's _hilarious_.

"I'm watchtowering," I explain lamely. He's not going to be pleased with me doing with strangers and not him.

"…What? Where?"

Cringing at the expected disappointment in his voice, I try to explain, "Forks, Washington. It's been a really _shitty_ few months, and I was hunting and things got pretty messy. A coven found me passed out on their on their doorstep and –"

"Wait. Wait, wait, and** wait**. Stop with the ands. You decided to go to some strange place, with some strange _coven of vampires? _You _fainted_? Are you alright?Who are they? Why not here, with your dearest friend?"

I put the phone on the counter-top for a moment as he continues his tirade full throttle and throw on a thin lacey bra and a shirt, then pick up the line again swiftly, "I can think of at least a million reasons why _not _Italy. And yes, I fainted; my pride isn't the only thing bruised, but I'll live. The Cullen's found me – the Olympic coven – and they seem nice enough; I can still take care of myself. Except –"

"Except you never could keep your finances in order, could you?" I can hear the knowing in this statement; he's surrendering the argument –for now.

"Rib me later; I don't have time for it now. I also haven't had over a millennium to accrue wealth, you immortal bas –"

"Is that really how you're going to ask me a favor, Amory?" He's purely amused now, probably stroking at that stupid braided blond beard of his.

"God help me, you better wipe the smug grin I _know_ you have on your face off. You are _evil." _Trying my hardest to sound _sweet_ and not my usual sarcastic drawl_,_ I raise my tone into something a bit more feminine,_ "_I need some money wired to my account. Would you be a doll and do that for me? I'm batting my eyelashes and everything." I'm not, and he knows it.

"Any time, Rory; it should be there in a few hours, I know which account. Will you be alright until then?"

"Yeah, I've got a few bucks on me. Don't go too overboard though, please."

"I'll go as overboard as I want – think of it as an early birthday present."

"You're impossible. Thanks Bryn, I don't know what I'd do without you," it's true. He's been there for me nearly as long as William, my two oldest friends in the world – literally. The thought makes me snicker.

"Me either. Let me know when you've settled in; maybe _I_ can come visit _you_."

I agree and we say a brief goodbye before I hang up the phone. The conversation had been a bit tense, but not as terrible as I had imagined. Went much better than our last chat; it hadn't been kind of me call and tell me my diagnosis over the phone, but I was at a Hospital in London when I found out and I had a flight to New York an hour after. Those are just excuses, though. I'd been afraid of telling him. I've been acting either so tough or so light-hearted for so long that admitting I'm not alright isn't always easy.

Inspecting my outfit in the mirror, I feel much more comfortable in my own clothes. My jeans are ripped and my shirt is a short black tee with enough fringe to make me look like a gypsy, nothing special; perfect for me, and distracting enough to detract from the bruises. I throw on my leather holster, grab my latest fake license – one not too different from what my actual I.D. would be – and some cash stashed away for a rainy day. Pulling on socks and my beat up combat boots, I exit the bathroom, bag in hand, feeling much sturdier than I had just minutes ago.

Alice spots me halfway down the hallway and crinkles her nose, "Oh, no; you _can't_ go out like this. Look at that bruise! What are you wearing? Come here, come on," she ushers me into her room, which sets me instantly on edge. This seems frivolous, but I guess I don't need to be scaring the entire town of Forks with my black and blue face.

There are a _lot_ of products in here. I watch her bustle about the room, grabbing this and that, and smirk, "This looks more like a makeup counter than a bedroom – scariest vampire den _ever_."

She smiles in response and sits me down in the chair in front of her vanity; fancy, white, and modern, with lights all around the mirror, "Don't be dramatic; we're going to need _everything_ to cover this awful mess."

My eyes go as wide as dinner plates, "This awful mess meaning my face? Are _you_ being dramatic? Let's not go too crazy, here."

She leans forward to inspect my bruise more closely and her expression turns semi-serious, "What exactly happened last night? It must have gotten pretty ugly for you to walk away with this."

"This is nothing," I laugh shallowly as she starts applying various balms to my face, "you should see what I look like after a _real _fight_. _I got cocky, and running in like Rambo doesn't work out as often as you might think." Especially when I'm not working at full steam. Her brow creased in focus as I watch her work; getting my make-up done by a vampire – this is way too surreal.

The white door to the room opens with a slight creak and Rosalie walks in, looking every bit like a wary pioneer striking out into the unforeseen. Set settles herself on the edge of Alice's bed, smoothing out the pale blue bedspread as it crinkles. As the blonde watches her sister work, she seems a bit more relaxed. A bit.

"Who were they?" Her voice cuts through the silence of the room, and I'm infinitely grateful for that; since I can be quite the talker, silence with new people makes me feel pretty uneasy.

"The Three Stooges," I chuckle.

"What?" That relaxing I thought Rosalie was doing just went right out the window.

I shrug and the pixie in front of me taps me on leg to tell me to quit wiggling, "Well, there were three of them and I never got any names. It was funny."

"So you thought hunting them was _fun_?"

A wry look crosses my face. "No; they'd been going on a wild bloodsucking fest across America. I don't _like_ getting led on a chase across the states only to come up empty handed. It _wasn't_ fun, that's why I had to make fun of it."

Alice frowns, picks up what looks like eye shadow, champagne shimmer glinting almost maliciously in the light, and orders me to close my eyes before joining the conversation, "That sounds like something the Volturi would normally get involved in."

I snort, earning a frown of reproach from the pixie in front of me, "Yeah, if they gave a damn about anything past their little slice of Sodom and Gomorrah. As long as it's not affecting them directly they could give a f-"

"You don't seem too phased by any of this."

"Why should I be?" I open my eyes so Alice can finish the rest of whatever she's going to do and see that Rosalie's eyes have narrowed into what I think must be her trademark interrogation expression. I throw the blonde a glance, "This is my life."

"How old were you when you started?" I feel my eyes twitch as the dark haired vamp attacks my lashes with mascara.

I wait until she finishes, wanting to keep my eyes and avoid the question. At my silence, I catch the look of curiosity on both their faces, "…I didn't get my first tattoo until I was old enough to hunt."

"When was that?" I jump at the new voice, looking to Edward leaning casually against the door frame to the room. I have a feeling the whole house is listening to my explanations, which is fine with me; saves me the trouble of repeating myself.

"I was thirteen. Accompanied my…Instructor on my first contract that same evening; witches."

"About that," Alice's eyebrows draw together in interest, "which tattoo is your first?"

"All the red you see." Their eyes widen – the vermilion pigment out shines the black on my skin by a wide margin - other blood infused with magic turns black the second it gets inked into me, "You can see the venom tats I have. I needed to have something large enough to balance that out."

"Why are you so…forthcoming with this information?"

"Well, Professor, if I'm not I imagine you'll just read my mind and find out all my dirty little secrets. I can only keep you out by repeating song lyrics in my head so much." After I address Edward I fall quiet as Alice slathers my lips in gloss. I'm glad this won't be an everyday thing and keep that in consideration as I let her do as she pleases.

"Tah-dah!" she exclaims theatrically, spinning me in the chair so quickly I have to hold on to the arm to keep myself in my seat.

I gawp at my reflection in the mirror. The bruise is gone, that I had expected, but, "_Damn. _Who do you work for, Vogue?" My eyes look sultry, my lips are stained a sheer red, and the light olive tan pigment in my skin seems to shine in the light. It looks a little goofy with my less than glamorous outfit, and I don't usually pack on cosmetics like this, but I smile all the same.

"I can _now_ honestly say that Forks is the _weirdest_ town ever, of all time."

"Me too," Rosalie chimes in, and I dissolve into unsure laughter; I hadn't expected the slightly sarcastic edge to her statement.

Alice examines me critically for a moment, "You need more food. And a haircut. Maybe clothes! We've got a _lot _to do today!"

I watch as she tears out of the room then gather my things with an already exhausted sigh; shopping isn't really my favorite. Rosalie rises from her seat on the bed, casting me a glance, "We'll meet you at your new place later."

Careful not to touch my face I run my hands through my hair, exhausted already.

Wait, 'we'll'? Who's 'we'?

* * *

(Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.)


	8. Chapter 8

Haircuts, Revelations, Houses

Feeling much lighter after chopping off my mop of hair, I run my fingers along the shaved sides of my head. When I crouch to see it in the side view mirror, the soft overcast light catches the deep royal blue of my new 'do. I pull out my smokes and lighter just as Alice starts talking.

"I _love _the color, but why that cut?" she pouts, "You'd look so cute with a–"

"Mohawks are awesome, that's why," I blow my smoke away from her, and she seems to take notice of my _accessory_ for the first time.

"Should you really be doing that?"

I laugh heartily at both her distasteful expression and concern in her voice, "Smoking or swearing? And why not to either? What's it matter?"

She waits for me to finish puffing away, clearly studying me closely. In all honesty I'm just stalling, not looking forward to getting in that crazy expensive Porsche again –anything worth _that_ much money makes me nervous, so I take my time looking at the scenery around us. Forks is a cute little town, and the surrounding area is one of the most beautiful I've ever seen. I finally flick the remains of my smoke into a nearby ashtray and climb into her car, reluctantly.

"You sure seem to be cavalier about the whole _death_ thing," Alice settles on finally.

"It's had its time to sink in. I don't like it, don't get me wrong," I shift in the leather seats, hoping the hardware on my jeans doesn't scratch it, "but there isn't any helping it. Guess I should be enjoying what time I have left. I don't know if you've noticed yet, but I don't take things too –"

"I don't see you dying," she blurts out, then slams her lips shut so hard it's nearly audible.

"…_What?_" I'm dumbfounded, staring at her with my mouth open, headache kicking in full force again trying to process the information. "But you said that the future changes based on –"

"Cancer doesn't just _decide_ to go away, Rory," I laugh, near delirium, at her words; it's one of the most ridiculous statements I've ever heard. "I can't see your future too well past a certain point, but –"

"Then that's a big _maybe _to me, Al. Neither of us can say for certain what's going to happen, but I've got a ton of blood tests and even more tattoos saying that's impossible. I'll believe it when I see it; I won't get my hopes up." It's true, I don't know how much stock I put into these 'visions' of hers yet. I want to live, but I don't want to go blindly following the first shred of hope, either; that's a set-up for heartache.

She nods, lost in her thoughts as she drives. We near a branch of the bank I use so I can check my account and Al slides neatly into a parking spot. When I look over at the woman who broke some mind blowing news to me, I catch her smiling at me slyly out of the corner of her eye.

"Can I help you, Alice?"

"What do you think of him?"

I know instantly who she's talking about, that damn Adonis who screams trouble, but I play dumb, "Him who?"

"Jasper." She looks like the cat that got the cream, and I hate it.

What I hate even more is how the mere mention of his name – a man I just met, a _vampire_ – sends my heart flying into my throat. Feeling all too much like a teenage girl, I try to negate my reaction with a casual shrug.

"I just met him, what do you mean?"

"Oh I think you know. Your answer is _very_ telling, by the way."

"Are you _smirking?_" The door pops upwards as I pull the handle, and I shake my head at her, "You are terrible, Alice Cullen." She giggles as I exit the car; I climb out carefully, not wanting to scratch the shining paint. I take the flight of steps up to the double doors by two's, wanting to get banking done and over with – money really hasn't ever been my forte, Bryn was right.

Its mid-morning, so I don't have to wait too long to get to a window. I try not to vomit as the teller reads off an account balance of fifty thousand dollars; there that Viking goes, showboating as usual. He's officially lost his mind - I don't think I've ever had more than a couple thousand in any of my accounts, and that's been few and far between. Taking out enough of the ample sum of money wired to me to cover the amount my new pixie friend told me for security deposit and rent I dart back outside and into the car, dodging a sudden onslaught of rain while stuffing the money securely into my leather holster.

"Everything go alright in there? You look a little green." Alice starts the car and pulls out of the lot, and starts driving back down the streets of Forks. More than a few people turn their heads at our fancy ride.

"I hate having money; it's such a responsibility."

She regards me out of the corner of her eye and laughs, "Isn't that part of being an adult?"

"Yeah, don't remind me."

The farther we get through town Alice begins bouncing excitedly in her seat. We turn down an unassuming road and stop near the middle of the street where Al pulls to the curb. On one side is an obviously occupied two story white house, though far more normal looking than the white house nestled back in the woods. The small front yard looks neatly kept, and an _old_ truck is parked in the driveway – I thought my Geo was a piece of shit, but this thing looks like it's about to rust apart any second. It's got a certain charm to it, but it just looks _dangerous._

To my annoyance, that makes me think of Jasper.

A car pulls in behind us, most likely the property manager Al called earlier. We both exit the car and I finally appraise the house I'll be living out the rest of my days in.

It's a one story, unlike the one across the street, and the natural wood is stained and not painted, giving it a more cabin-like feel. Alice dances off across the street, towards the house with the truck parked in front. I go through the motions of the meeting on my own, listening as the older woman exuberantly lists off the specs of the house, two bed two bath blah blah all the while staring daggers at my tattoos. Finally she pulls out a contract of sorts, I list my information and she calls for a brief background check, and we're gravy. When i sign at the bottom and pay her the specified amount of cash she places the key to my new place into my hand.

"Welcome to Forks." I say to myself after she leaves, surveying the room in front of me. It's an open floor plan with a fireplace in the center, with white walls and a dark wood floor. When I realize I'm going to have to fill all this empty space, I groan he in annoyance.

"Everything alright there Ink?" Emmett's voice suddenly booming in the small space of my living room has my pulse flying into overdrive. I spin around to see him and Rosalie hand in hand, smiling. She's looking around my empty house in slight approval.

"Oh har har." I faux laugh at the nickname - a Marvel superhero I share powers with - and look up at the giant man in front of me, "Everything is fine, Colossus. Just realizing I'm going to have to decorate. Gotta admit, that's something I've never done before." I decide to go with the nick name theme I started with the Professor.

My smile back at the two falters when Jasper enters the front door. I try like hell to steel myself and stifle my emotions, but it's hopeless. I've got a feeling he can read me better through my emotions than Edward can through my mind. An odd sense of clumsy excitement flickers between us. This is getting bad, and fast; whatever _this_ is. Being raised as a hunter made me completely inept at most other things, including my tenuous grasp on 'romantic' relationships. Screwing is one thing, but something else, deeper than that? It seems more than irresponsible, given that I'll be checking out soon.

….But none of that matters because _nothing is happening here_. Right? I try to push this train of thought as far into the corner of my mind as it will go. Stupid, foolish, childish thoughts; I'm twenty-seven, for Christ's sake, and this is _not me._ I'm not some love-struck air-headed –

"Hey Rory."

Well I am _now_. I fight the pleased tremor that threatens to tear through me when he says my name, "Jasper, nice to see you again."

"Hi guys! Amory, I'd like to introduce you to your neighbor!"

Alice, saving me from a doubtlessly weird conversations, is standing next to a young woman with long straight brown hair and a serious face; doe eyes the same color as her hair widen when they land on my ink. Their personalities already seem like such a stark juxtaposition that I find it hard to believe the look of sheer adoration written on the vampire's face. Can't say I'm not glad to have the distraction from my suddenly complicated life.

"I'm Bella Swan. I live across the street with Charlie, my…Dad. Nice to know someone else is new around here." There is a pause before she says dad, like she's not used to it.

"I'm Rory, nice to meet you. Have you been here long?"

"Just a week." She glances at the people around me, clearly uncomfortable, "I've uh, got to go. See you around."

I wait until she's well out of earshot to speak, "Why did that girl look like she was afraid you'd all attack her at any minute?"

"_Bella_ is Edwards singer, and Alice thinks –"

"I _know_ –"

"That the girl is her mate." Rosalie starts and finishes, despite Alice's interjection.

"Man, I didn't think life in small town Washington could get any stranger. Vampires in high school, now a singer and a teenager in love with an immortal; my life is officially insane." I look around the room, thinking of something, anything to do to distract me from Jasper's boyishly charming smile, "I'm going to need to grab a few things for tonight. Anyone game?"

* * *

(Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.)


	9. Chapter 9

Trouble

It takes around two hours to grab all the things I deem necessary; a few groceries, a blow up mattress, and some blankets. Since Rosalie had no interest in staying to help, she and Colossus drove me back to the Cullen house in his crazy expensive Jeep so I could pick up my car, which really looks like a piece of shit now next to all these fancy rides. I savor a few minutes of silence without Al pestering me about sprucing up my new place as I drive home. She's been doing it since we got in the car earlier, and now that we're both standing in my living room again she's _still_ going on about it. Is interior decorating really that fascinating? I need a break. And a drink.

"Alice, I promise you can call whoever you want to start decorating _tomorrow_." I insist for the millionth time, trying to curb her enthusiasm. It's a futile battle; she's the energizer bunny in vampire form.

"Oh I've got such great ideas! We can paint this room –"

"Paint? Oh no, what have I done?" Should've expected her to want to take everything as far as possible; I may have just met her, but she's an open book.

In response to my dramatic tone, all I get is a blank look in her golden eyes, a sign of her reading the future, before a bright smile lights her face, "I've got to go! Hunt, or whatever; Jazz can drive my car back. See you!" And with that she's out the door, leaving her brother and I shaking our heads.

"She does that a lot doesn't she? I really need to adjust to this whole 'knowing the future without actually knowing the future' thing." He looks a little apprehensive about being here alone, so I open my mouth before thinking the situation over, something becoming too common when dealing with him.

"Uh, well…You're more than welcome to stay, if you want. It's…Kind of boring without anything here, though."

"No - I'd like to stay." He says matter-of-fact, and I instantly blush. Damn you school girl crush!

Suddenly the gravity of my current situation hits me like a ton of bricks – I'm alone with a bloodsucker that has me in a tizzy. This should be interesting. Before I even get a chance to open my mouth, there is a firm knock on the door.

Jasper goes very still; I wonder how he deals with being around all those kids with all that blood and all those feelings in school. Inclining my eyes towards the door, he gives me an almost undetectable nod. With a slight shake of my head I walk to the door, wanting today's excitement to be over – even a little part of me, the ditzy girly part, wants to be alone with – well, _not_ mister dark haired mustachioed cop here.

I clear my throat, trying to remember the last time I wiped my records clean and what I've done since then,"Hello there, officer," I can't help but sound a bit gawky, "what can I do for you this evening?"

"I just wanted to introduce myself; I'm Charlie Swan, chief of police. I live –"

"Across the street with your daughter Bella, right?" Thankful I haven't been caught for something or another I almost heave a sigh of relief, but then he gives me a strange look and I'm quick to elaborate, "Alice introduced us earlier. I'm Amory Belmont." Living across the street from the chief of police, hah; Forks just continues to get better and better.

He seems to finally notice Jasper at the kitchen bar behind me, and his brows furrow, "You know the Cullens?"

It's been hours and I _still_ haven't thought of a cover story. Stupid! I spend too much time with my head in the clouds, and now I have to bullshit my way through this.

"Ah, yeah; I'm an old friend of the family. I've…Carlisle is my new doctor." I decide on mixing truth into my story – more believable that way, "I have cancer. He's hopeful he can cure it." Cops make me panic; I'm not used to _talking_ with them.

His frown is instant, pity shining clearly in his eyes; it's a predictable response that still has me shifting on my feet uncomfortably. Jasper must sense my anxiety, because he appears behind me and places his hand lightly on my shoulder to get my attention.

"Hello Chief Swan," he turns his face from Charlie to me, and I notice just how close we are, "You want something to eat, Rory?"

I know he's giving me an out, and I could kiss him for it - also because he's gorgeous.

Gah! My heart and brain can't seem to connect, and it's leaving me a fucking wreck.

"Yeah, I'll be in a sec."

With that his hand is gone, and I'm left feeling curiously empty with a now super suspicious cop on my hands. His brow is raised as he looks back into my house, trying to gauge if Jasper is out of earshot.

He definitely isn't, but the Chief starts up again anyways, "How old are you, Amory?" He's eyeing my tattoos.

"…Twenty seven, why?" I don't like where this is going at all.

"I don't want to cause you any…undue stress, but you do know that boy is in high school, right?"

He can't be thinking what I think he's thinking. "Oh," it's really all I can conjure up to say in my mind, "uh…Yeah. I'm an old family friend, remember? Thanks for stopping by, Chief."

"I'll be seeing you around, Miss Belmont." He still sounds unconvinced as he turns to leave.

I close and lock the door behind him, "Great, awesome first impression; he thinks I'm screwing a high school student."

Jasper chuckles, "Do you think it would make the situation better or worse if he knew how old I really am?"

We both look a little taken aback by his sudden forwardness, but I roll with it. So, does that mean he wouldn't _mind..._I don't even give myself time to think about how that whole question and what it insinuates cracks my heart wide open; that poisoned blood pumping traitor. I shrug, hoping he doesn't notice the slight tremble in my shoulders. Even if he doesn't, I think he can feel how _delightfully _he's making me squirm. Hopping up on my counter-top with a huff I sit and watch as he finishes making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It's just a damn sandwich, but the thoughtfulness is so adorable I feel my heart start racing.

"I think that he'd have to be in my house way too long for _that_ explanation."

"You don't like cops?" He hands me the finished sandwich and I realize how ravenous I am.

"It's not that I don't like them, I'm just not used to being on the right side of them," I talk through bites, ever a lady. "I don't always have the luxury of following the law in my line of work."

He leans forward on the counter, watching me in the dim kitchen lighting. I feel myself begin to fidget, so I try to distract myself, "Thanks for the sandwich, by the way; and for getting me out of that." I take another bite and feel myself blushing at the more than awkward silence. I keep talking, even though I can feel the peanut butter sticking to the roof my mouth.

"So, just how old _are_ you, really? Please don't tell me you were sixteen or seventeen when you were turned; it'll make things entirely too creepy."

Eyes glimmering in the light, he laughs, "Make _what_ creepy, Rory?"

"I don't know, _this_," I gesture between the two of us.

He smiles, but sounds guarded as he answers, "I was nineteen when I was turned."

Oh, great. I have more than platonic feelings for a perpetually nineteen year old guy. I'm a creeper, but it could be worse.

"Can I ask when that was?" I see his face fall and bite the side of my lip, annoyed with myself for being so careless with my questions, "Never mind, that was -"

"I was…born in 1844, in Houston, Texas; I was Jasper Whitlock then." He says quietly, "I was changed in 1863."

"Damn, you look _good_ for a hundred and sixty." I slap my hand over my mouth after my outburst, but after getting a dazzling smile in response, I'm grinning like a goofball.

His eyes stray to the analog clock glaring brightly at us from the stove top. It's only eight in the evening, _early_ for me, but the exhaustion from my adventures in Forks is creeping back into my bones; I yawn loudly, trying desperately to cover it up with my hands.

"You should get some rest." He says, eyes flickering over to the bed placed haphazardly in the center of my living room. Too tired to argue, I just nod. His dusky eyes dart shyly to the floor before locking with mine again.

"Do you think it would it be alright if I stopped by tomorrow?"

"After _school_?" I ask teasingly, bouncing off the counter and back onto the floor. The action jars my still aching body enough that the analgesic mark on my chest burns intensely, a slight amount of venom coursing through my body trying to quell my pain. Despite that, I smile.

"Of course," the answer slips past my lips easily, even as the side of me claiming sanity cries out for me to make a _rational_ decision. My rationality _and _sanity went out the window _years_ ago.

I walk him out and instead of turning around to go back inside, I plop myself down on my front steps to roll new smokes; tobacco had wormed its way in to my list of necessities today. The monotonous task will help keep my mind off _things,_ like sexy Mister Civil War Era here.

"Can I ask you a…weird question?" Except I can't leave him alone for five seconds – I _do_ have a question, though.

He stops at the end of the steps and turns to look at me, almost seeming relieved I stopped him, "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'd be more surprised if you had a _normal_ question."

"Oh, you are _too_ funny, Trouble." Playful banter is almost too easy with him.

"I like that about you, Rory; the strangeness and the nicknames. What did you want to ask?"

"You look…" I let my eyes fall to his scars briefly, struggling to find the right words, "Like you can hold your own in a fight, that's for damn sure. This might sound a little insane, but I need to keep my skills up –"

"You want to _fight_ me?" Oh, he definitely thinks it's crazy.

"I want to _spar_; I promise I won't win _too_ badly."

Concern flashes through his eyes, "I'll…Think about it."

"I'll take that as a yes," I say as I flick my tongue out to wet the edge of a rolling paper, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

He smiles faintly as he leaves and I win the fight of having it _almost_ not affect me; I don't think of it at all until I hear Alice's car roar to life. My eyes dart up to his golden gaze, almost subconsciously; he's staring at my open mouth with such ferocity that I fumble the cigarette in my fingers. The dried shreds of leaves land on me, but I let the slight breeze carry them away, unable to tear my attention from him. Deciding that the only way to stop the pleasure coiling through my spine is to look away, I'm finally able to force my head back to look at the stars. The next instant, I hear him pull away – a breath I didn't know I'd been holding comes gasping out of my throat.

I find myself in my house a half hour later, after my usual nightly routine, lying awake in the center of the puffy blow up bed. This is one thing I could really get used to – not having to sleep in shitty motel beds or the seats of my beater. My mind tries running through all the pros and cons of my infatuation with a one Jasper Whitlock, but my body puts a stop to it quickly; exhausted from the past forty-eight hours, I fall into a deep sleep.

One filled with honeysuckle eyes, unkempt hair, and secrets under scars.

* * *

(A/N: Thanks for everyone who is reading as I take my sweet time with this story! Super excited about my first review, glad you're enjoying things so far; feeling super motivated! Things start going a bit quicker from here, though there are still some explanations - I don't want to have to interrupt the action I have planned later with exposition. Twentyish chapters to go, this story takes us to the end of New Moon. I've got more coming, though! :D Thanks again!)

(Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.)


	10. Chapter 10

'Normal People' Things

I'm awoken the following morning by someone poking me on the cheek; the finger I feel is frigid, and in my sleep drunk state my instincts kick in full force. My sight and speed marks are aflame as I clumsily pitch myself off the opposite end of the bed, landing right on my ass on the cold wood floor. I'm up the next instant, muscles tense and ready for a fight.

It's the Cullen brood, of course, but my eyes are drawn – like a moth to flame – to Jasper. Yesterday it had only been to my training as a hunter that I'd been able to discern a few of his scars; now I see he's out marked me at least tenfold. Annoyingly enough, it just makes him _more _attractive.

Then I hear a wolf-whistle. "So you_ do_ have those tattoos everywhere. Told ya, Jazz-man."

Everything comes back to me at once; yesterday's events _and_ the fact that all I currently have on is a tank top and underwear.

"What the f-"

Alice has a sheet drawn around me instantly, effectively cutting me off while she glares at Emmett, who is being pulled out of my house - forcibly - by Rosalie. Edward must've already booked it outside, and Jasper looks like he's thinking about doing the same – with our strange connection, his current flustered state feels like intense curiosity…And a little lust.

"What the _hell_ is going on?" My voice is thick with sleep.

"I totally forgot yesterday; I need your phone number!"

I deadpan, "You seriously came to give me the most embarrassing wake-up call of my life because you want my _number?"_

She looks dolefully at me, "Well, that and to tell you that you should try to make yourself scarce here today. The decorators will be here soon."

"This morning is in the running for worst morning _ever_, of all time."

"I'm sorry; I tried to tell her to wait, but…" Jasper trails off from his post near the doorway, eyes still looking anywhere but at me.

"It's alright – just, if there is a next time, please _knock_." I say pointedly to Alice. I toss my phone to her so she can swap our info, and I shuffle over to my duffle bag to get my last change of clothes.

Bright neon letters glare at me from the kitchen, "Seven thirty? Really? It's going to be a long day." I retreat, slightly annoyed, into my bathroom. After rinsing off in the shower, I throw on a cut up Led Zepplin shirt, tight jeans, and socks. My bangs get pushed back with a pin and I throw on the barest minimum of makeup.

It takes all of ten minutes, and Alice clucks her tongue disapprovingly when she sees my efforts, "Looks like we're also going to need to go shopping later."

"You're a terror." I start, pulling on my trademark boots, "But not matter how much I hate shopping, you're right; that fight the other night thrashed one of my already thrashed three existing outfits. Text me when you're done with class, don't go skipping school on my account." I grin, still finding the whole 'vampire high' thing hilarious.

"Oh no!" Alice's already large eyes get even wider, "We're going to be late!" She darts out the door much like last night, and Jasper and I are close to follow. I bump into him as I turn to close my front door, and the electric shock it sends through me has me struggling with my key for just a moment before I finally jam it in the lock.

I go through the motions of lighting a smoke and take a drag before I turn to look at him, "So, what do you think?"

"Of what?"

"My tattoos," I gesture at the ones he can see, "they meet your expectations? Or do you want to ogle me some more?" If he hadn't been embarrassed earlier seeing me in a state of undress earlier, he sure is now.

"I wouldn't mind," he says, ducking towards the shiny silver Volvo parked in my driveway. For the first time, I actually try to broadcast a feeling: want. Stopping a few feet from the car, he glances over his shoulder and I watch his eyes roam over my frame before I catch the faintest of smirks. I don't have to be an emotion-reader to know when someone is giving me a good eye fuck, but if I did I can still feel that lust from earlier.

We both walk to our respective cars, and I think about how weird it is to talk with emotions instead of words – Enjoyable, but weird all the same.

When I pull away from my house, I wonder just how wild Alice is going with this; I gave her carte blanche, but I hope she's taking my funds into consideration – not like I don't have a ton of money for the time being, but I need enough to live on until…And I'd hate to call Bryn for _more_ money. Maybe I should feel a little strange about letting someone I just met call people to outfit my new house, but as long as I don't have to do it I'm happy. I've reached a new epitome of laziness.

I need a job, a _legitimate_ job. Another normal thing I've never actually done, but I'll think about that more when I'm better acquainted with Forks.

Grabbing coffee and breakfast at a nearby diner, I jot down a trail around town on the map I picked up while I eat. I'll drive around trying to familiarize myself with the small town; it wont't take me too long, but I still find myself smiling contentedly at the prospect wandering down the quiet streets – it's perfect here, at least to me. My curiosity is sated a half hour in, so I park and inspect the main drag of town. I spot the high school and while I still feel like laughing at the vampire high school ridiculousness, I can't help but feel a little worried as well. If anything were to go wrong, it'd be my responsibility to deal with it.

I already like the Olympic coven too much – the thought of having to neutralize a problem like that has my heart flip-flopping uncomfortably.

I spend the next few hours going from store to store, making small, unneeded purchases here and there – I usually don't like killing time like this, but it helps take my mind off the sudden influx of thoughts I'm facing.

My phone begins to vibrate in my pocket, startling me out of my mind. It's Alice, of course.

_**Where are you? I'll have Ed drop me off!**_

I tell her the name of the thrift shop - The Use it or Lose It - knowing she knows where it's at. In the meantime I sift through more old junk. As soon as my hand clasps a shiny silver cigarette holder, filigreed and old-fashioned, I know I've made my second great find for the day. After making my purchases, I leave so I can wait outside; it's a nice overcast day. Walking out of the door, I take my carefully rolled cigarettes out of the old Marlboro box I had them in and line them neatly in their new home.

"What's that?" Jasper's smooth voice, underscored by that slight accent, surprises me so much I drop the case. His hand shoots out to grab it, just slightly faster than normal speed. Slightly embarrassed at having been so easily caught off guard I flash a sheepish grin. Maybe I'm taking to civilian life more easily than I thought I would.

I playfully smack him in the shoulder, ignoring the light shock that lights my body as we touch, "Don't make sneaking up on me a habit; my heart can't take it. This is an old cigarette case, figured its better than keeping around some old cardboard box." I take the proffered case and finally look up into his eyes. My heart skips a beat, and he _knows _it; I open my mouth to tell him to stop being so _him_, but suddenly Al's face takes up my whole field of vision, bright with anticipation.

"Let's go! Port Angeles is an hour away, and I don't want to waste any time! I think we'll start…"

As I listen to her start to rattle off store names, I turn to Rosalie who smiles faintly at me, gesturing at yet another flashy car – this one an apple red convertible, "We'll take my car there and I'll drop you off back here later."

I place my new case into my holster, and peer up at Jasper again, willing my heart to beat normally, "We still got plans tonight?"

"The way Alice and Rose shop, you'll be worn out." I pout as a way of argument; Jesus Christ, I'm twenty-seven and _pouting. _Tawny eyes peer down at me in contemplation, "…Call me when you get back." He's all anticipation and excitement. I want this day trip _over_, even though I am grateful for the help. Climbing into Rosalie's car, it strikes me how much I've gained to lose by coming here; I'm going to have to leave all of it behind – quite the mood killer.

Despite the dip in my emotions, we chat happily about pretty standard topics on the way to Port Angeles; the weather for the week (because sun is _bad_), what kind of things I should buy, and how Al is dealing with her Swan situation.

"We're becoming friends, but I'm second guessing myself. My vision changes every time I rethink things, and I just…Don't know what to do."

"Just do what you're doing. They still have stupid school dances, right? Make a move then." Rosalie looks at me in the rear view mirror, clearly exasperated, "What?"

"Are you going to encourage this?"

I stare back at her, despite the way her gold eyes are flashing in challenge, "Why not? She says she's seen it happen. You don't believe her visions, do you?"

"Not that particular one, no. You believe she was meant to be with _Swan?_"

"I don't know…The future seems like an _awfully_ big place. Getting the future right seems like hitting the lottery to me."

"Why do you think I'm having such a hard time with this?!" Alice exclaims from the passenger seat, slinging her arms dramatically over her head.

"Shouldn't you be against this, Rory?" the blond continues with the topic, undaunted.

I shrug, "Entirely dependent on the situation."

"So, when would you intervene?"

"When it's part of my life?" I fold my arms across my chest, "I mean, if Swan wants to be a vampire, that's her choice. As long as no one goes biting everyone all haphazardly, draining towns dry or making newborn armies or whatever, what do I care? "

"That's kind of irresponsible," Rosalie argues, and I can't tell if she likes me less or more.

"Have I struck you as a very responsible person up to this point?" We pull up to an outdoor mall of sorts, and that line of conversation ends on that rhetorical question.

I spend the next four hours being thrust into what I believe to be every piece of clothing for sale in a mile radius. Nothing seems to be off limits, either – even undergarments, and I never thought I'd be at Victoria's Secret with a couple of vampire babes, but this is Washington; apparently it's part of the twilight zone. Al's protests my style to try to get me into something more 'feminine', but I assure her I can't live in skirts and dresses. Frugality, something I've always had to live by until now, also seems to be thrown out the window. I spend too much; _way_ too much.

Okay, so I guess a few hundred dollars out of fifty grand isn't much, but it's a big deal to _me_.

We arrive back in Forks around nine, and just as that handsome blond predicted I'm so beat I doze the entire way home. Alice and Rosalie are slave-drivers when it comes to shopping; I've never had to try on so many things. How did we manage to fit all these bags into this convertible?

When did my life reach this level of ridiculousness?

I'm shaken awake lightly when we get back to the lot I parked in, and we transfer all my things to my car – I wasn't the only one who bought way too much stuff; there's still a gaggle of bags in the trunk. Alice finally gives me a hug because she can't contain it anymore, and I even get a smile from Rosalie when she says goodbye. As I sink down into my seat, I scan through my phone. When I hit call, it barely rings once.

"Rory?"

"Hey Jazz," I start up my car, "I'm on my way home now, if you still wanted to stop by."

"I'll see you there." Excited and suddenly much more pepped up, I hang up quickly so I can concentrate on driving. It takes me all of five minutes to get back to my house, and when I finally do pull into my driveway, I have a horrific realization.

All the damn **bags**.

"Curse you _and_ Rosalie, Alice." I say, struggling with said shopping bags and the lock on my front door, "And screw you, shoddy lock, I swear –"

When my door finally opens, I stare in awe. Everything is…beautiful. The once barren house is now homey, and I can tell everything here was done with great care despite the swiftness. After closing the door and dropping everything off on one of my new couches, I wander around the house in amazement. The kitchen is now decked out with every appliance known to man, my bathrooms are serene, and the master bedroom is gorgeous. Everything is a shade of gray, with other bright colors interspersed. She even honored my request to leave the spare room empty.

I pull out my phone and text my pixie friend, bouncing in place.

_**Al, what are you, a fairy godmother? This is awesome! Send me the bill; I have a feeling you're going to bankrupt me ha. (Tell me you didn't, though. Please.)**_

After I press send, I dial William's number.

"Amory, are you alright?" Since I'm in the process of shuffling around my kitchen trying to get myself a late dinner together, I put him on speaker and set my phone on the counter.

"Everything is _fine; _well, I guess that depends on how you define fine_._ I'm in Forks." The chill from the fridge feels excellent against my hot skin, and I take my time choosing what to eat.

"How is it? What happened?"

"I lost them, _again. _I fainted. The coven of vampires I was telling you about, they are indeed friendlies; it's going…Good? Too good." I hear a knock at the door and feel my heart stutter, knowing exactly who it is, "Come in!"

"You sound surprised, mon petite chat," Jasper walks in at the tail end of Liam's statement, eyes crinkling handsomely in mirth, "it was just a matter of time before your luck turned around."

Pouring myself a glass of red wine as the blond takes a seat on the bar across from me, I end the conversation hurriedly, "Just wanted to let you know I was alive and kicking; I'll call and give you more details later."

"…Rory, who's there?"

"Gotta go!"

My undivided attention falls on Jasper and he shys away from me at the last second, instead looking around the room appraisingly, "Alice does work fast."

I take a swig from my wine glass and shake my head as I look around the room, "That she does. This is…Pretty incredible." Watching the dark red liquid swirl inside my glass before flicking my eyes up to meet his, I tilt my head nonchalantly, "Want the grand tour?"

He nods, and, in the most endearing display I've seen from him yet, he offers me his arm. Like a real gentleman – not the type of guy I'm used to at all. I pull him along as I show him the few tiny rooms off the open main room, blushing furiously as I glaze over the bedroom. Even the thought of merely showing him my bed starts my mind pumping out entirely welcome but still highly questionable fantasies.

In an attempt to duck out of those thoughts, I lead him back out into the living room. When I try to pull away from him, he places a hand over mine and glances at the mess of beat-up Lord of the Rings figurines piled on the coffee table, "Is that –"

"The nerdiest chess set ever? Yeah - I found it at the thrift shop earlier." It's one of the only things I found enjoyable about childhood.

"You wanna play?" I add, shifting on the soft leather couch when I notice how close he is.

"I can't promise I won't beat you too badly," he teases, and I narrow my eyes in mock indignation.

"Oh, I've got a _wonderful_ idea," I say, mouth twisting into a smirk, "You win and we don't spar, and I never bring it up again. If I win, though…"

"Deal," his eyes assess mine, confidence shining clearly in their golden depths, "you're on."

* * *

It was a grueling match, but I held my own considering I haven't played in years.

I won; I think he let me, but it means I get to actually fight instead of just setting up a small training area in my empty spare room, so I'm not too salty about it. Plus, it was nice to sit and joke around without thinking of anything weightier than my growing feelings for a bloodsucker.

Quickly growing feelings. For a vampire. And I'm dying. I've never really done this romantic relationship thing before, but so far I'm batting a thousand.

"So we have a date sometime tomorrow, then?" Smugly triumphant, I stand on the step above him on my small porch with a grin on my face. I don't even care about the connotation of the sentence – okay, maybe a little. I throw a furtive glance at the darkened house across the street. It's a little past midnight, and I don't doubt the Chief will have another cow if he sees Jasper over this late.

"We'll clear it with your _physician_ first."

Being a few inches up doesn't help me at all, I still have to tilt my head back a bit to look Jasper in the eye, "Oh, don't try to get out of this _now_ Jazz. Deal's a deal."

He smirks at me, eyes all honey, "I wouldn't dream of it, ma'am."

I laugh lightly, "Such a proper southern gentleman."

_Meow._

We both look down between us, and standing there is a charming little black cat; its eyes are gold, because that's the story of my life these days. As it rubs itself against my leg, I abandon the conversation in favor of petting the adorable little ball of fluff. I run my hand along its side, and the little cat is all skin and bone under the fur. "You poor baby," I pick up the cat, who is complacent as can be in my arms, even nuzzling its face against my free hand.

"Kitten."

I look at Jasper in confusion, head tilted to the side. He rubs at the back of his neck, and his expression spells blushing even though he can't, "Ink is too obvious, and _everyone_ gets to call you Rory…"

"Are you flirting with me Jasper Whitlock?"

In response to my laugh accompanying the question, he decides to be evasive, "Maybe. What are you going to do with your new housemate?"

The cat in question mewls at if recognizing we're talking about it, and I shrug, "Gonna feed it and make sure it's alright, leave a window cracked if it wants out. If it's someone's pet, they're doing a piss poor job taking care of it and – why are you making that face?"

He stops the expression, some warm, longing smile that makes my stomach flip flop, and shakes his head. "You're...Very unexpected. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, see you around."

At the bottom of the stairs he turns to look at me once more, "You won't be gone soon."

"Al and her damn visions – go _home_, Trouble. The last thing I need is the Chief on my back. Again." Taking my own advice, I retreat into my house with a possible new addition.

* * *

The next morning, _way _too early, I have two more hungry cats meowing at my front door, all skin and bone like the last one. One is a calico, and the other is a barely three month old dark tabby.

I guess I ordered a crazy cat lady starter pack without realizing it.

I call the animal shelter and local vet clinic to make sure there are no reported missing cats; I really would feel scummy for taking a pet, even if they obviously weren't doing a good job. There aren't, so after setting the cats up with a little water and the last half of the can of tuna I'd bought, I strike out into town after freshening up. My first stop is the local supermarket open at this hour, where I purchase every cat related accoutrement known to man. I've never had the chance to have a pet before, so I'm going to do this right.

Speaking of which, it's time to find a job. I buy a newspaper from the machine in the small strip mall I'm in, and I toss it into the passenger seat as I climb back in the good ol' Geo. I'll look through the help wanted section _after_ me and the furry kids eat.

My arrival – more specifically, the arrival of food – is a big hit with said new crowd. I watch the three cats munch happily away as I situate the rest of the cat stuff throughout my house. As soon as the kitten is done eating, the other two decide they are, as well. When I open the door from them, it's like a comical gang with Hulk the tiny terror in the front, flanked by Widow and Marvel – his main ladies.

Settling down on my couch with a pen after I let them out, I start to scan through the paper. The first thing glaring at me as my eyes fall on the column is an ad from Forks high; apparently they need a part time office aide. I laugh; I don't think a high school would hire a high school dropout, and the _last_ thing I need is more awkwardness in my life.

There are few other promising employment opportunities for me, until my eyes land on an ad from the thrift shop from yesterday; I vaguely remember seeing the sign in the window, but it was a crazy day. The woman behind the counter had been friendly, and I do love old junk; I decide to head there after eating breakfast while pouring over the few books I have on hunter practices. I figure the events of the past few days warrant a revisiting of my impending doom. Two of them are versions of old texts I hand copied, and the third is John's journal.

When my fingers touch the worn brown leather cover of my grandfather's journal, I feel like a kid again, scared and weak and little more than a puppet for his designs.

The thoughts are unwelcome and make my stomach turn, so I get back to work deciding that business is more important than my feelings on the matter. It ends up just being a once over of all of the books again; none of them have any more information than the last time I cracked them open, but it gives me the faintest flicker of hope. Maybe I'll get in touch with Bryn, this time for books instead of money. It might not be so foolish to try again; what do I have to lose? I blame half of my newly found motivation to save myself on the cats. The other half is all on a coven of vamps, with one in particular.

Making sure I have a window cracked for my new friends, I head back into town, hoping I'm not dressed too…Me. My shirt isn't cropped or torn, and my jeans are…mostly intact. Like most 'normal people' things, I don't do this a lot. When the bell above me jingles as I walk in the shop, though, I paste a confident smile on my face; I may not to this often, but that doesn't mean I can't act like it. I swipe the help wanted sign out of the window before approaching the counter. The woman at the till is the same woman from yesterday; her long silver hair cascades around her bony shoulders, and she's dressed very bohemian – it suits her well.

"Ah, the young woman from yesterday; what can I do for you?" She smiles when she sees me, and it widens to a grin when I slide the sign across the counter to her.

"I'm interested in a job, actually. I'm Amory Belmont, and I –"

"Oh! Let me grab you a form, my dear." Her familiar tone makes me smile instantly; all I can think is she's an American version of William, kind and slightly scatterbrained when it comes to work. I take the form she slides me with a pen, and raise my brow at the woman across from me.

"I think you grabbed the wrong form, this looks like employee contact information."

"You're hired as long as you can start tomorrow," the woman across from me beams.

"Of course, no problem. I…Uh, what's your name?"

She looks befuddled for a moment before bursting into laughter, "Oh! I'm so sorry, I completely forgot. I'm just excited to finally have some help in here. I'm Evelin Woods, but you can call me Evie."

I shake the hand she extends me over the counter, still stunned this is going _this _well, "When should I be here?" Forks is so goddamn strange.

"Seeing as how I just opened and it's eight, I'm guessing that's not too early for you?"

"Not at all, Evie. I'll be here at eight; thanks for the job."

"You'll fit in just fine here with me, Rory. I know it." She smiles again before I leave the store, and as I glance at my phone I notice it's barely eight fifteen. I glance at the school and see students trickling into the parking lot. A shiny, expensive looking Volvo is parked in the lot, and I don't need to see a familiar group of 'teenagers' standing around it to know it's the Cullens and Hales. I even see Swans beat up truck; I'd recognize that piece of shit anywh –

Oh, _fuck_; that van is headed right for her, isn't it?

In the flash second it takes for me to decide whether to save a girl and expose myself, or let her die and take the chance of all the vampires assembled to resist the scent of blood, Alice has already acted.

"Couldn't have just pulled her out of the way, could you Al?" I grumble as I speed walk to the school parking lot, "You had to go and put a dent in the side of a van. Fantastic." An ambulance whizzes by and I groan; this doesn't look good.

When the familiar gang comes into view, I project as much calm to Jasper as I can; all of these frantic heartbeats can't be good for thirst. His shoulders fall in relief, and I can see his guarded expression soften ever so slightly.

"What's the damage?" I direct my question at everyone, but it's a livid, icy blonde who answers.

"I won't be surprised if they run us out of town tomorrow; Alice is being so selfish and reckless because of that girl!"

Resisting the urge to pull out a cigarette on school grounds, I watch as the pixie hops in the back of an ambulance with Swan, "We should _really_ go discuss this somewhere else. Later though; it'll look a little suspicious if you guys play hooky now, yeah?"

Rosalie looks like she's going to spit fire any second, but nods curtly at me and allows Emmett to lead her into the building.

"See ya, Ink!" Colossus' booming voice draws the attention of nearby students, who shift their focus from the accident to me. Great, fantastic.

"Goodbye Rory." Ed leaves as well, leaving me alone with Jasper; not totally alone, though. Most people are trickling back into the school after the excitement, but I think I just got spotted by staff.

"Well, I think that's my cue; I'll see you later, Jazz."

He doesn't look happy to see me go, so I send him one last burst of serenity – everything is fine.

However, as I'm walking back to my car I can't help but wonder about the repercussions of Al saving Swan so publicly.

* * *

(A/N: This might seem like a ton of filler, because it is and that's what I do best, but I live for this kind of garbage. This chapter was the bane of my existence. I hope it's at least decent for taking so much of my damn time. As always, thanks for reading!)

(Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.)


	11. Chapter 11

Making Nice

I spend the rest of the day worried, glancing at my phone as I read all three old books front to back again. Just as I'm about to say screw it and head over anyways, I get a text – from Jazz– telling me they're headed home. I sling on my holster as my new cat crowd sees me off, and I break a ton of traffic laws trying to get to the Cullen house before the gang does; thankfully I don't run into the Chief on the way.

By the time I pull up to the white mansion-like home, I can see from the fresh dust hanging in the air that they beat me by a small margin. As soon as I'm out of the car I'm bounding up the steps and to throw open the door; Rosalie had been furious, and I don't want things getting too out of hand over what amounts to a car accident.

"-now, and we're going to have to move again!"

"I couldn't let the van hit her! Blood everywhere, with her being Edwards's singer, _hello?!"_

The scene I'm met with on entering the house is Alice and Rosalie nearly at each other's throats. Jasper is behind his adoptive 'twin' and I can tell from his face the strain of keeping their emotions slightly level is wearing on him. Emmett is next to her, looking between the two with concern. Edward is deep in Alice's mind, and he looks ready to restrain her at any moment. The quarrelling sisters disregard a pleading Esme; I can't take it.

"What's the –"

"You just want her safe until you can change her!"

"It's the future, Rosalie!"

"Guys-"

"Because you want it to be!"

"**Hey!**" I finally walk fully into the room, positioning myself slightly between the two women with my arms crossed, sick of being cut off, "What happened to Swan?"

Alice looks close to tears, and her voice wavers as she speaks, "Bella is in the hospital."

"It's not like she's hurt, Alice," Rosalie hisses next to me.

"Thanks for that," Edward says to his dark haired sister, pissing off the blond even more.

"**Alright!** _Alright_," I try to gain the quickly spiraling out of control of the room again, "I saw a little of what happened; how did you explain stopping that van?"

"I don't think anyone reme –"

"Professor?"

He's quiet for a minute, in full contemplation mode. Finally he looks between Al and I, "It wasn't anyone's focus of attention, but it we aren't careful –"

Rosalie lets out a snarl of frustration. I make my way over to the bar and pour myself a small glass of scotch. When I turn around, glass already to my lips and quickly being emptied, the blond woman narrows her already fierce gaze on me.

"Shouldn't you be more concerned about this?"

"Look, if Swan wasn't sure what you guys are_,_ she has to have an inkling now. She hasn't said anything about it, and she probably won't; maybe she'll just chalk it up to the stress of the accident. This is what happened: a girl got saved from being hamburger from an out of control van, yay!" I wave my hands in dramatic excitement, "Good for her and Alice. If Swan opens her mouth about this, she's as good as dead. Simple."

"Rory?" Alice's voice wavers as we talk about killing her beloved Bella, "What does that mean?"

I set the glass down on the stone counter-top, cursing my stupidity. There were some things I didn't want people knowing about me this soon, and that I'm a questionable character is one. Taking a deep breath, I try my best to explain it away, "Part of being a hunter is protecting the public at large…Even from themselves. You think Swan is the first person to get too curious? Do you know what would happen if word that vampires, witches, and werewolves are _real,_ among other things? It's one life for many." Everyone looks at me like I've grown a second head, and I turn my gaze to my boots, "Sorry; I'll wait outside."

Al and Rosa start in on each other again as I make my way to the porch; I sit out on the bottom step, legs extended, heels of my boots planted firmly in the grass. Time passes as I watch afternoon start turning into late afternoon - the voices inside are definitely subdued now. I'm halfway through my second cigarette when Jasper finally joins me on the porch. I can tell he's still on edge, so I try to be as calm as possible. No small feat considering I basically just outted myself as a murderer.

"You alright?"

Glancing up at him sheepishly, I try to get a read on his hidden emotions, "No. I was hoping I could just fake being a nice person until my untimely demise; now everyone knows I'm a killer _and_ a bitch."

"Remind me how you and Rose aren't best friends yet, you have so much in common." He keeps his tone light and joking, and it works; the statement catches me off guard enough that I laugh. He looks at the smoke dangling from my fingers and takes a quick look over his shoulder at the house, "Would you really kill her just to keep our secret?"

I sigh and put my cigarette out on the bottom of my boot, "Yes and no; I'd kill her for blabbing because it's what I've been _conditioned_ to do. Also, can you imagine if people actually _believed _her? The mass hysteria and panic that would cause, all because of one teenage girl with a crush on a vampire? Christ," I roll my eyes, "I wouldn't want to take her life, it'd be a damn waste, but I'd have to."

"It won't come to that." He says confidently beside me, and I turn to look at him in contemplation. His warm eyes are free from disgust, and I find that infinitely comforting. Maybe I don't have to be afraid of telling him everything, eventually.

Not today.

"Why is Rosalie so pissed about this?"

It's his turn to roll his eyes, and the gesture has me smiling, "If we have to move, she doesn't want to have to start school again as a sophomore."

"Totally justifiable," I say without an ounce of sarcasm. "You know, I had her figured for a hard-ass when I first got here – now I'm not so sure."

"'Figured'? You know what they say about assuming, Kitten?"

"Duh," I lay back on the short staircase, my head resting on the top landing, "but you know, I'm only human. Some of these hypotheses have yet to be proven or disproven, though. Al was easy; you get exactly what you see with that one. Colossus is just some big goofball. Esme…Well, I'd say she's the maternal epitome and reminds me glaringly of my own mother, but I never had one, and I have the distinct feeling we're the same age. Carlisle – I just imagine some melodramatic scene from General Hospital being played out by some hot vampire doctor, and I wonder how much work is _actually _getting done at the hospital"

"What about Edward?" He looks highly amused, and I'm decided that this is when I'm most relaxed – when I'm with him.

"What about Professor X? He's Broody McAngstpants. I try not to think of that too much; if I had to hear everyone's thoughts, I'd be pissed off all the time too. And then…There's you." What am I saying? I've lost my mind, but my mouth won't quit.

"I'm not too sure about you."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"All these damn _feelings_ and I don't know where yours end and mine begin. Not that I don't like feeling feelings or anything," great, now I'm turning into a bumbling idiot, "but this is just on a whole different level. I've been avoiding anything but 'apathetic glee' for a while now.

"Plus, I don't usually trust men more attractive than me." I've literally gone bat-shit insane. I bolt up from my seat and avoid looking at the man who has me so damn flustered, "I uh….I mean –"

Saved by Doc; we're both awash in the beams of his headlights before he pulls into the garage, effectively smothering my awkwardness. Until a cold hand eclipses mine and I'm left a mindless mess again, "Let's go find out what's going on."

I squeeze his hand lightly; an unwarranted and foolish gesture, one that I instantly hate myself for loving – at least that's how I try to explain it away, "You know what's going on, I bet you heard it all." He flashes me a smirk that makes my heart hammer even harder against my ribcage.

"_Trouble_."

* * *

I also don't see what the big deal is about this Swan situation; Al went to the hospital with her, Doc treated her, and she hasn't said a word to anyone about anything strange yet. Regardless of that, Rosalie volunteers to off her – much to Alice's displeasure. At least I said I'd wait until shit hits the fan to pull out the big guns – the icy blonde wants to go over there _now_. The pixie eventually gets the family on her side, with a promise to avoid the girl. From the look on her face, I instantly know she's going to break that promise.

"No more going over to watch her sleep, huh?" Emmett waggles his thick eyebrows suggestively.

I narrow my eyes at Alice, "Wait, you sneak over to watch her _sleep?_ Whoa, that's…Not creepy at all." At my sarcastic answer I see Emmett grin, "What is it, Colossus?"

He looks like he's on the verge of laughing, "So you _wouldn't_ want anyone watching _you_ sleep, Ink?"

"_Hell_ no." I draw out the first word, earning a glare from the majority of the room.

"Jazz, I think you should find a new nighttime hobby!" This time Emmett _does_ laugh, cackles even, but he's the only one.

I stare into a pair of mortified topaz eyes for a long moment; Jasper looks fittingly chagrined, but I still don't like the idea of being observed while sleeping, "You and I need to have a chat later."

"Yes ma'am." That damn adorable accent has me _this_ close to ignoring my annoyance at being watched while sleeping.

Pacing in front of the fireplace, I contemplate the situation out loud, "So, just ignore Swan then? That won't make her _more_ suspicious? And if this is how things are going to be, then Al's vision _isn't _going to be coming to pass. She's going to put two and two together, she can't be _that_ naive."

"We'll figure it out," Esme says, wrapping her arm around a melancholy Alice.

I can't listen to this anymore; it's becoming a back and forth based on things that _may_ happen. What if Alice decides she wants to tell the girl, or if Swan finds out, what does it matter?

"Hey Jazz, we still on for that match?"

"I don't think that this is a good idea." Carlisle apparently already knows _and_ disproves of our plans.

"All due respect Doc, that doesn't really matter," I cross my arms and shuffle in front of the doorway restlessly, "I'll get weaker if I don't train, and I feel _fine_, mostly."

He gives me a hard look, "As your primary physician –"

"How do you even know I told the Chief that?" Damn it, he seems to know _everything_.

"He called and I had to corroborate your story."

"He _also_ warned him about keeping Jasper away from you." Emmett chimes in from his spot on the couch with Rosalie, "You're such a cradle robber, Ink."

I let out a frustrated sigh, choosing to focus on the important topic and not some gossip, "Of course he did. What does this mean? I can't have you putting me on bed rest; we'd both be disappointed."

His face falls into a look of contemplation, before he lays into me with that authoritative tone again, "Tomorrow you can have a small sparring session. From now on, you'll be seeing me at the hospital twice monthly – I'll put y. A _supervised_ match, of course." As he says this, his eyes flick from me to Jazz and back.

"Maybe we _can_ find some way to help you."

"Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak, but why do any of you even _care?_" I meet eyes with everyone around the room, slowly, "I'm sure as hell not that charming." It's settling in now, how _truly _strange this whole situation is. There's something I'm not being told.

Everyone goes quiet, and I know that isn't a good sign. I wait and watch as Alice look nervously first at Jasper, then at Edward. The Professors brows are furrowed as he glances from me to Jazz. Rosalie is glaring at her blond haired brother, while next to her Emmett is looking at Jasper while inclining his head towards me. Trouble himself doesn't seem to want to speak either, excited anxiety painted on his face. Finally I settle my eyes on Esme; somehow I get the feeling she's the only one who'll say a word.

"Alice has seen you being important to this family; that's good enough for us." Her voice is soft as she speaks, that reassuring smile affixed to her face. Disappointing; it's far too vague an explanation for my taste. I let it rest for now though, content with making it a bet on tomorrows activities.

"So, I _was_ planning on visiting those shape-shifters tomorrow, but I guess I better book it to get there today. I need an address, though, and a way to get a hold of them."

"Why do you wanna go see the mutts, Rory?" Emmett is curious enough to drop his nickname for me.

"It's business. They need to know I'm here, and I can't imagine that you keeping a hunter from them would be abiding by this treaty."

"They're in La Push; they won't be happy to hear from me, but I'll try to get someone to meet you at the border."

"Thanks, Doc." I grab my keys, eager to hit the road, "Where is that? And how far?"

"I'll show you!" Ever helpful, Alice is already detailing exactly where to go in impeccable handwriting on a scrap of paper. I think she's just glad to have a slight distraction from today's shit-show.

Jasper finally approaches me, eyes pleading, "I don't like this; you shouldn't be going to La Push, especially not alone."

"I'm a hunter. I'll be fine; this is just formality really." I try to assure him. But I can't do a very good job at that, seeing as how I feel a sort of cold creep into my body at the thought of being so disconnected from him. La Push might not be that far, but he's got no way in that won't start a war, and I find that to be a very disquieting thought. He's not at all put at ease, so I try again.

"I'll let you know when I get back, alright?"

Struggling with his thoughts for the briefest of moments I see something dark flash behind his honey eyes. It's gone quickly, and he nod's halfheartedly; I turn and leave before I can start second guessing myself.

* * *

The drive to the reservation at La Push is nice, despite the icy cold sensation of fear still coiling around the base of my spine. It's twenty minutes; at least if things do go sideways, it's not too far back. Sure enough, just as I requested, there are people at what I assume is the border to meet me, under the cover of pine trees. I stop my car on the shoulder of the road; I don't expect to stay for tea and cookies.

There are two men, though I use the term loosely; they are are clearly young, younger than me, though only one looks sure of himself – even though it's the middle of January, the older one isn't wearing a jacket and I know he's the only one of the duo currently able to phase – shape shifters have a lot of tells. They look equally unhappy to see me.

"So it's true, they've gone and gotten themselves a hunter."

"I can assure you no one has gone and _gotten_ me," I scoff at the youngest member, now standing opposite them on the side of the road, "I came here on a hunt, and I've decided to stay. I'm Amory Belmont, and you are…?"

One of the younger members, the more experienced looking one, scowls, "She's got _bloodsucker_ all over her, why should we –"

"Sam…" the younger of the two says, reproachfully, "We should really let my dad and Harry deal with this."

"Sam Uley," the older one still looks like he's about to rip into me again, but he keeps his tone even and hard as he reluctantly introduces himself, "we're here to-"

"_'Take me to your leader.'" _A mocking statement made in the best alien voice I can muster; Uley looks less than pleased at the levity I'm taking the situation with, I catch the faintest of smiles on the younger ones face.

"Who're you, Kid?"

"Jacob Black." Judging by the almost growl he says the statement with, I must've dented his ego something bad. He tries to square his shoulders to look tough as he climbs in the truck they'd been waiting by, but it looks too forced and juvenile to work. With a chuckle, I get back in my own vehicle and follow the duo deeper into La Push.

It's a meandering path through the woods before we happen upon the bulk of the town – I can tell already it's a tightly knit-community. Even if I wasn't covered in these tattoos, I'd still be looked at like an outsider here.

The truck in front of me finally pulls off the dirt road in front of a rustic looking red house with white trim. Less than two seconds after I exit my car I have the two of them flanking my either side as we walk to the door. I want to tell them it's not necessary; one shape-shifter and a human versus a hunter would be a massacre in my favor.

When we walk in, I give the interior of the house – wooden, pleasantly small and homey – a cursory once-over. What I'm really interested in are the two older men waiting in the living room for our arrival. Like the first two, they have deep russet skin and dark eyes, though one has hair streaked with gray underneath a fishing hat. It's the man in the wheelchair that has my attention – something about him commands the room.

He speaks softly, though I can hear the slightly judgmental tone behind his words, "So, there is a hunter in Washington."

"That there is. I'm Amory Belmont; you can call me Rory though. I'll be here for about a year, so I hope we can reach a friendly agreement."

"We already have enough of an agreement with those blo-"

"This _again?_ Look, I get it. You hate vampires. You aren't making a deal with _them,_ you're making a deal with _me."_

_ "_It's nice to meet you, Rory. I apologize for our younger members," Billy looks pointedly to Uley. "I'm Billy Black, Jacob's father. This is Harry Clearwater, and I see you've met –"

"Sunshine? Yeah." If the young shape-shifter didn't hate me on principle before, he sure as hell hates me now.

Harry Clearwater, the one with the graying hair and fishing cap, laughs heartily, much to Uley's displeasure. The young man in question looks like he's about to stalk from the house, but he holds his ground.

"What are your terms with the Cullens; why only a year?"

"I'm checking out for Hell soon. My terms are the usual; they don't kill humans or expose the occult world, and I don't kill them. It's informal. I'd like to extend the same offer to you, only don't expect me to go signing any treaties. I'm not one for paperwork, just ink."

The most jubilant of the bunch laughs again, "I like you, Rory. We we're just about to eat – I'm making my famous fish fry. Stick around." He winks and I can't help but smile. The remaining three don't seem so sure of me.

"We find your terms acceptable. Since Harry has made you the offer, you are welcome on our lands, _without_ your friends."

Belying my wishes to get back to Forks, my stomach grumbles in hunger. Blushing to the tips of my ears at the loud sound, I look around the room in trepidation; I really _should_ be going.

"I think I will stay, thanks for the offer."

Jasper is going to be pissed.

* * *

So no one told me when I agreed to stay for this damn fish fry dinner that there would be a _ton_ of people. Well, maybe not a _ton_, but it feels that way when you have the pressure of curious glances on you all evening.

It's Harry and his daughter Leah, son Seth, and wife Sue, along with Billy and Jacob. Uley had left when Leah showed up – I guess whatever problems they've had in the past outweigh him needing to keep an eye on me.

Leah and Seth keep with the tanned skin and dark hair theme, though the young woman looks much more severe than the rest of her family; she seems to be the only one of the Clearwater clan with a less than optimistic disposition. They ask a lot of questions of me, basic ones about hunters, and I answer them to the best of my abilities.

When I finally finish my meal – there is a reason that fish fry is famous, it's delicious – it's already half past seven, and my phone is dead. If I don't leave now there will be more than a few vampires crossing the border and it's going to start a war.

"Thanks for dinner, Harry, and thank you all for accepting my terms; I'm glad I decided to come."

"You weren't very sure about it, were you?" Seth looks as painfully young as Jacob, his large dark brown eyes eager and kind.

"In my experience, all shape-shifters are a lot like Uley; hot-heads. This evening would have gone a lot different if he was in charge."

From the look on Leah's face, she agrees.

After a few goodbyes, I'm out the door and nearly running to my car; I started missing Forks since I left.

* * *

(A/N: Yay! Thanks Reviewers/followers/favoriters/readers - it means a lot! Stay tuned!)

(Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.)


	12. Chapter 12

A Visit with Doctor Cullen

After letting Jasper know I did indeed return in one piece from my visit to the Quileute land, I'd slept; not well, but something is better than nothing. I'm going to need any extra energy I can drum up for my sparring match today. When I had arrived at work five minutes to eight, Evie showed up right on the dot, ready to show me the ropes. Al had sent me a text detailing my appointment with Carlisle. Luckily, after explaining my situation to my new and very understanding employer, she had no problem with letting me go at noon. She really does just seem happy to have someone to bullshit with and help dust all the kick-knacks in the shop.

Quickly running home to shower and change, I throw on a sports bra and cropped tee, along with a pair of looser fit thrashed jeans and my boots. After putting on my holster I book it to make my date in time. Thankfully, Forks isn't exactly a sprawling metropolis and in less than three minutes I'm jogging to the large double doors of the entrance.

I hate hospitals. When it comes to getting injured while hunting, it's either a simple wound or a mortal one – I've been pretty close to the latter, but never quite there. I learned to do most of my stitch work myself and I've popped more of my body parts back into socket and set more bones than I care to count; stuff like that is easy to learn, especially when you can't fucking stand the sterile smell of antiseptic and bleach, even more so when you don't want anyone to know how much they hurt you – friend or foe.

Leukemia, though, that's a _little _out of my field of study.

The hospital in Forks looks unassuming enough, just another small town chop-shop with one set of double doors and a friendly receptionist. It's overly bright, probably to make up for the lack of light outside. I _really_ like it better out there.

"Hello, what can I do for you today?" The young woman in front of me is barely older than Swan, wearing a cutesy floral printed set of scrubs and wide smile.

"I'm here to see Doctor Cullen."

She glazes over as soon as I say Cullen, a small smile replacing her friendly grin, "Oh, you must be his one o'clock."

"Yeah, don't remind me," I grumble as she giggles dreamily.

I take a seat in one of the chairs in the waiting area – why are these things always so damn uncomfortable? Just as I'm about done wiggling around on the hard plastic in pained impatience, Carlisle walks out in a proper white doctor's coat, smiling as he spots me. I stand up, relieved I won't have to pretend to be interested in trash magazines for an indeterminate amount of time.

"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice," I joke as he leads me down another well-illuminated corridor, "hope this isn't an _inconvenience_ in any way for you."

"That eager to get into a fight, are you?" He says as he props open the door to his office. Diplomas line one wall over a neatly kept desk, and there's even a small examination suite as well. "If you'll take a seat on the exam chair, I'll be just a moment."

He rummages around in his drawers for a moment, setting packaged equipment onto a sterile rolling tray next to him. When he's done with that, he starts to ask me the standard questions about my diagnosis; the same song and dance I went through a few months ago, and a few months before that.

"When were you first diagnosed?"

"Two months before coming here, back in November. I don't usually go to the doctor, but I was feeling…Off. Not that going ended up being worth much; they caught it pretty late, and I can't do chemo. It won't affect me like it would a normal person."

"Because of your tattoos?" I nod, and notice every so often he takes down notes in a file, "How is this affecting your heath? And abilities?"

"Eh, I get tired more often than I used to. I don't know, it's just an off, fatigued feeling. Like _almost_ having the flu, but never quite getting it. As far as my abilities, well…This affects the blood, and that's kind of what I rely on to pump the things saving my ass through my system. The sicker I get, my blood will get more worthless at keeping me alive, let alone carrying compounds that can kill me."

"You assured me yesterday that letting you hold this sparring match would help you; I –"

"It will. The blood might not be a muscle, but every time I use my marks, the foreign bodies burn off the weaker blood cells. It's a little like a purge; I feel awesome after a fight."

"Couldn't you just keep using your marks when you get too ill, in that case?"

"That'd be a little too convenient, wouldn't it? Eventually the ratio of good blood to bad blood isn't going to be in my favor anymore. If I try to use my abilities then, it'll burn off too much of it, and I'll bleed out without actually bleeding out. Or, that's what I'm guessing, who knows?" I look at the paper he's writing on, "Are you really taking notes of all this weirdness?"

He looks up at me and smiles, "I'm taking much more normal notes, I promise." With a few more notes, he rises to watch his hands.

"I'm going to be drawing a small amount of blood, if you have no objections."

"Do I look like I'm afraid of needles, Doc?" I raise an eyebrow and he chuckles as he sits on the stool in front of me. He grabs my arm and easily – too easily – finds a vein. As I watch the red liquid bubble up into the attached vial, I take a surreptitious glance at Carlisle. He doesn't seem fazed by the blood at all; he's jotting down more notes on a new paper like nothing is wrong.

"So… You don't look like you have a problem resisting the smell of blood; you've been doing this long?"

"I have; I always wanted to help people, becoming a doctor facilitates that need." He neatly pulls the needle from my arm, caps the vial, and places a piece of gauze on the wound. With a gentle, somewhat wary smile, he opens a drawer next to him with a few colors of rolled up medical tape.

"Would you like to pick a color, Amory?"

"Yes!" I exclaim, pointing to the bright green, and he shakes his head with a smile.

"Excuse me for saying so, but you don't quite fit the description of most hunters." He makes quick work of wrapping the stretch tape over the gauze, and I look down at the neon band with a goofy smile.

"What should I be, some sour and dour old man with a chip on his shoulder who wants to see the world burn? That was my grandfather. An attitude like that _never _pays off – I prefer taking things not so seriously."

"Even your own mortality?"

"Well, I guess. I don't really believe in _immortality_ as a forever thing. If someone dropped a nuke or some napalm on us right now, you'd be as gone as me."

"But otherwise, we'll live forever." His tone is slightly amused; maybe I took it to an extreme place.

"Forever is a relative thing. The time I have left is my forever, and that's what counts to me. Maybe if I believed in Heaven or Hell, or good and evil, I'd give a shit. The thought of not existing makes me _highly_ uncomfortable, but it is what it is."

"How do you not believe in good and evil?"

"I believe in shitty circumstances; people are just people, and what they go through and what they decide shape who they are. Good and evil aren't some forces working in the light and dark – it's all just kind of a grey area, one that's like Al's visions in that everything changes based on choice."

He rises from his perch on the stool and moves across the room to sit behind his desk, still jotting down notes in that damn file, "I was raised Anglican; my father was a pastor. It's definitely shaped my beliefs about my kind."

Well, that I wasn't expecting, "If I'm overstepping a boundary here, let me know, but just how old _are _you."

His face shines with a reassuring smile, "I was born sometime around sixteen forty; the common people didn't keep the greatest records during that time."

A low whistle leaves my lips and I press on, "You're almost four hundred years old? How old were you when, you know?"

"A little less than half a century shy of four hundred, thank you; I was in my early twenties when I was turned. The year was sixteen sixty three and the initial change was…Devastating." He gives me an unreadable look before continuing, "My mother died in childbirth, so my father was left to raise me alone. Him and a few of the other pastors would often seek out covens of vampires, witch gatherings, and werewolves and burn them out of existence."

"Are you telling me that-"

"My father was a hunter, yes. A very brutal one; back then, we were so mired in superstition versus fact that a lot of innocent people ended up dying at our hands. When he got too old to carry the torch, I did it for him. I was much more careful than my father, and I didn't have the same penchant for killing. We needed to remove a lot of superstition from our hunts, and eventually I found a real coven of vampires hiding out in the sewers of London. Even though I was unmarked, I led the charge; the fight left me bleeding from a vampire bite in an alley. My father would have seen his course of action as clear; even if I was his son, I'd still be an abomination in his eyes. I was scared. I hid."

Knowing that I wasn't the only one raised by a hunter who cared more for duty than family doesn't bring me the validation I thought it would. Of all the people I expected to share a bit of background with, Carlisle was the last. His story has me captivated though, so I shut my usually open mouth until he finishes.

"It took a few days for my transformation to be complete; I writhed in agony in an old dank cellar, cursing what I was becoming. When I was finally completely changed, I was ashamed. After having lived my whole life believing in evil, there I was, a newborn. I tried for years to kill myself, but nothing ever did it. It was when I tried starvation that I found I could survive on animal blood; I was so hungry I took down a pack of deer. Following that encounter, I threw all of my focus into resisting the bloodlust. I spent my nights absorbed in medicine and other arts, and after two-hundred years, the scent of human blood was no longer a trigger.

"I wasn't well connected to the vampire world – besides the near feral ones in the sewers of London. I met a tracker once, a man named Alistair, though we didn't stay in each others company long. In the eighteen hundreds I finally came across the Volturi, and I stayed with them for a short time. I found their disregard for human life troubling at best, and after many attempts to pull me into their way of thinking, I left for the growing United States. Eventually I found - or was found by - each member of the Olympic coven as it stands today."

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms, "That's…quite the tale, Doc. I'm glad you found the Volturi about as agreeable as I did, though. Bunch of pansy coc-"

"Amory," Carlisle gives me a warning look, so I let the word die before it leaves my mouth. "I lived around hunters my entire human life – I would have become one myself, had that hunt not gone awry. When we found you, I was very concerned about your motives, but like I said; you're very different from the individuals I knew. Alice doesn't see you being a threat, either, which is enough for me." It's amazing how much faith almost everyone puts in Al's visions. I'm still not sure what to believe when it comes to her versions of the future; I'd like to believe I'll live a bit longer, but I can't help but think it won't be that easy.

"So, you know more about these tattoos than you let on?"

His brow furrows, "As I said, it was rare when we came across any kind of true occult activity – there were very few people who had more than the first mark – something we called an Anchor back in my time. I've never seen anyone with as many marks as you."

"What can I say; I aim to be strange and unusual." I flash him a smile, "Thanks for sharing with me, Carlisle. I've…Got a bit of a past too, though not as lengthy. I'm not quite ready to show and tell yet, but I promise it's nothing that will affect my time here."

I shift around in my chair, impatient again, "So, am I good to go?"

"I still don't know how much of a fan I am of this –"

"Hey, you either want me to be worth a damn in a fight or an dead – I know which one I'm picking. I might not look like much, but these tattoos are good for _something._"

He fixes me with a look, "I'd like to supervise all the same. Jasper is…He's..."

"You don't have to tell me his story for me to know it's brutal; I can see his scars. It'll be _fine, _I'm a big girl." I stand from my chair, "He's your 'kid' – supervise to your hearts content."

He stands as well, finally shutting the file for the first time in an hour, "My shift ends at four; I'll meet you at the house."

It takes all of ten minutes for life to throw another curve-ball at me.

"Oh, you've _got_ to be shitting me." I stare at the gauges on my Geo as I try to turn the engine over again; it does the same thing it's done the last ten times I tried – sputtered weakly before making a _really_ awful grinding sound. I tap the dashboard in apology.

"I'll come back with help. Eventually."

The walk from the hospital to the high school isn't exactly short, but at least it isn't raining at the moment, and it's clearing that acrid aseptic smell out of my lungs. It gives me time to think, too…I'm glad Carlisle told me his story, but now I feel a little guilty for telling everyone so little about me. I'll have to start organizing my thoughts on the matter; telling my life story is going to _suck_.

When I finally make it to the school I decide to wait by a familiar silver Volvo parked in the lot. There's already a trickle of students leaving the school, and most of them turn to give me at least a passing glance. I pick up more than a few comments.

_How many tattoos does she have?_

_ Do you think she's showing enough of her stomach? Isn't she cold?_

_ Tramp._

_ I like her hair._

_ Isn't she Hale's girlfriend?_

_That's what Alice said._

_ Lucky bastard._

Alice said _what?_ I run my fingers through my hair, annoyed; as if my feelings aren't conflicted enough already. I feel my heart flutter at the mention of us together, but this _can't_ be circulating around here; if the Chief gets more suspicious I'll be far past fucked.

As usual, I push the thoughts I deem frivolous down as soon as I see a vaguely familiar brunette walking to an old truck, "Hey, Swan!"

She spins, looking quite like a deer caught in headlights. I jog over, ignoring her discomfort at the stares of her classmates; I need answers. When I finally cross the lot she pretends to be nonchalant, "Hi, Rory. What's up?"

"Please tell me your dad hasn't heard this rumor. He hates me already."

She shuffles slightly, and I see her frown at the mention of Jasper's name, "Charlie doesn't hate you, he just…Doesn't trust you. I can help you with that," she shrugs her backpack into her truck and looks at me slyly, "if you can do something for me."

"Ah, and what's that, Swan?" Surprised at the amount of backbone she's showing I put my hand on my hip and regard the girl in front of me, itching to take out my cigarettes.

"Talk to Alice for me. She's been ignoring me since yesterday, and –"

"And you've got some crazy emotional pull that seems to be complicating your entire existence, leaving you questioning everything you've ever known, compelling you to speak to her as often as possible?"

She blinks, "Um…"

"Don't worry about it; I'm in the same sinking ship. Just, let your dad know this is a _rumor_ and nothing is going on; he's still in high school and still underage." Except he's one hundred and sixty, and also nineteen, but I can't be the one to tell her that. It isn't my place.

"I'll keep your secret."

"There isn't a secret to keep, Swan," I groan in exasperation, "just – Al! – see ya!"

I break our conversation off and walk back to the Volvo, where Alice is waiting with a smile on her face, "Hey Rory, what brings you here?"

"Well I walked here, and thought I'd wait for you guys to be released. Funny story, I heard the most **interesting** rumor," if her face could get paler, it just did, "that _you_ seem to be spreading."

"Aw, come _on_, I'm just stating the inevitable!" She pouts, "You're meant to be!"

"Yeah, well, it's highly _illegal,_ so hush up about it."

"But how do you _feel _about it?"

I throw my hands in the air, "I'm trying _not _to think about it, you pixie devil! It's all I can seem to concentrate on though; leave it alone, for my sanity."

"_What_ sanity, Ink?"

Turning on my heel, I face the Colossus and Jazz and sigh in exasperation, "I don't know – I like to tell myself I have a_ little_ left."

The blond looks relieved to see me, a highly tense look fading to a smile, "How are you?"

"I'm better now – my car is toast though," I remain as calm as possible, but he knows something is wrong. At the questioning look in his saffron eyes, I gesture at the gaggle of teens assembled, "Just an F.Y.I., everyone here thinks I'm your girlfriend. Have fun with that."

"Does it bother you?" His face creases into a frown of concern.

"I don't give a damn about what a bunch of sixteen year olds are saying about me. It's what the Chief is going to say that worries me." Emboldened by the upcoming fight, I plaster a cocky grin on my face, "But we can revisit this whole girlfriend thing when you turn 'eighteen.'"

Leaving him with a shocked expression, I climb in the car and sit on Alice's lap at her behest as we take a cramped ride to the Cullen house.

* * *

(A/N: Thank you all so much for reading, it really keeps me on track for this story! Funny enough, I had completely forgotten about Carlisle's father being a hunter until I started my research for this, and it ended up working out perfectly. Doc and Rosa are the only two characters I'm going to go in depth with their backgrounds on (besides Jasper, obviously), as I feel it adds depth to the relationships they have with Rory and I feel like glazing over their stories don't do them justice.

Anywho, you guys rock! Stay tuned!)

(Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.)


	13. Chapter 13

(Im)Mortal Combat

It's barely half an hour later, in a field just a short run from the house. Rosalie, Emmett, Alice, and Edward are scattered around half of the clearing; Esme stands off to the side with her husband, who looks less than pleased with the upcoming event. Jasper and Amory stand at the center, sizing each other up in a very different way than usual.

But it all looks quite normal for the hunter; the sure smirk never leaves her face, the impatient shifting of her feet becoming an almost ritualistic, beautiful dance. Jasper finds this primal side of her infinitely appealing. Ever since Alice told him the day they found her she was his _mate_…It's only been a few days, but the pull is relentless. She's trying, and failing, to fight it; he needs to come clean with her soon since she thinks this is some passing infatuation. He can feel the confusion and conflict he has her in, and he hates it. Her slim fingers, covered in tiny black symbols and delicate red lines and the faintest flash of almost-silver, tap away at the keys on her phone. When the first few notes of a song come blasting out of the tiny speaker, she chuckles and lightly sets the device by her feet.

"You always play music during a fight?" Emmett shout's from his position halfway across the clearing. Rory turns her smirk on him, and the militant calculation he see's in her stare makes him wonder where the human he's coming to see as a friend is; this isn't her.

"_Always._ Lucked out this time though - this is my theme song Colossus; Don't Give a Fuck." Brown eyes shift back to the man she hasn't yet guessed is her mate, "So, I've got a bet for you, Trouble." That nickname leaving her lips has him burning with want.

"What would that be, Kitten?" He revels in the feelings accompanying her blush, except the spike her rushing blood brings to his thirst. Her expression falters as she wrestles with her own feelings again, though he can only guess at them – she's good at keeping them smothered. It's more than annoying for him, considering he has such a hard time keeping his emotions from her; a strange side effect of being soul-mates.

"I win and you explain all _this_ craziness," she makes a vague gesture in the air with her hands, so Rory, "also, no more watching me sleep without _asking _first; _I_ thought _I _was being creepy, ensorcelled by an eternal teenager."

Her admission has the Major tearing at the backdoor of his mind, wanting to get this on with so she can be _his_. The potency of the thought, along with the acknowledgement that the more savage part of him is back has him wondering if this fight is really such a good idea – if being with her is such a good idea.

"And if I win?" But he can't stop now.

It's when she smiles, those pretty petite lips curving to reveal teeth and dimples, he realizes how _dangerous_ the situation really is; in love with hunter he's about to fight, with a less than stable hold on both his emotions and his thirst.

"I know what you want Jazz, and I already told you; call me when you're old enough." There is a teasing edge to her voice, but it disappears along with her smile as she settles into a fighting stance. Amory Belmont, the Rory they know, is gone. In her place is a force of reckoning – the same feeling of electrified battle lust he felt the first night she arrived is there, and the only feeling she seems to want to cling to.

In the next beat of her heart, she's on him. Thanks to his history, he's able to keep his feet in her initial assault; whoever trained her did so thoroughly and if she'd chosen anyone else to fight, it'd be over already. She's brutally fluid, and no movement is a wasted one. With every strike he can feel her body heat rise, and her blood becomes a faint echo of its customary intensity. This catches him so caught off guard that she meets little resistance as she takes him to the ground.

It's only for a second, though. He regains his footing before she can move, and that battle lust is taking over every emotion in him as well. Somewhere deep within him there is a breathy, humorless chuckle – a phantom whisper in the depths of his mind that's a call to the darkest reaches of madness. With every exchanged strike, her emotions seem only to fuel the fire burning through him.

All at once he realizes it's not his own inherent lust for violence he's feeling; it's her's. That one vehement emotion mixed with pain and the heat of her marks - it just seems to keep running rampant over the rest of her senses. Something is off, and before he can think better of it he catches the small woman in a hold from behind, wrapping his arms tightly over hers. He pushes past that bastard cackling in his brain to send her any emotion but blind rage, and it works. What comes through first is fear.

She turns in his grip, tilting her head up to meet his gaze, brown eyes wide and apologetic, "Should've explained that first."

* * *

_Really _should've explained that first; I have a feeling the Professor is the only one that knows what's going on, and that's because he just goes reading minds whenever he feels like. Or I think so, at least. Maybe I just think really loud.

"What was that, Rory?" Jasper is shaken, and I can see a million questions cross his mind.

"God, I am getting so tired of explaining stuff. I need to make a DVD of this or something – we can just pop it in when someone gets curious." I catch a look from Rosalie and decide explaining is in my best interest, "Right, well; my tattoos – I have more than most hunters, a lot more. There used to be a lot of marks, a long time ago, a whole damn library, but a lot of stuff got destroyed or stolen. The books we were left with were the bare basics; a few texts of combat and hunting augmentation marks. Most hunters get the tracking marks. I have way, _way_ more of the combat tattoos; I'm a glorified bruiser, hunter is just a title.

"With the old tattoos, I guess there were some that allowed us some more than standard powers, like mind reading…If we used the right blood or venom. That carried over into the other marks. If I use a trackers venom or a shape-shifters blood in a normal mark, it'll work, but if I use it in a hunting mark, it's that much more powerful. For my tattoos, the venom is largely from the same source, with a few exceptions. My friend Brynjar's ability is simple brutality – he loses himself in a battle, and it takes _a lot _to stop him. I get a taste of it through his venom. I'm usually really good at controlling it…It just got away from me. I'm really sorry, I just got so excited and –"

"Let's try again." There's determination in his voice; I'm not the only one looking at Jazz in disbelief.

The hopefulness in my voice as I respond sounds almost comical, "Are you sure?"

"You don't want to leave this a draw, do you?" When I see the challenge shining in his eyes, I take the bait.

"And have you keep creeping on me at night? I don't think so."

This match lasts a half hour and goes much better than the last one, with no going completely berserk. It's actually pretty fun, and Jazz is even more experienced than I thought he'd be – and I had high hopes considering he's had one and a half hundred years to perfect his technique. I'm close to getting him to the ground again a few times but it's no use. Maybe if I could use all my marks at once I'd have a snowballs chance in Hell; as it stands now he's got an arm pinned behind me as I lay in the grass. I groan in defeat, but start laughing when he loosens his hold and turns me over. He looks concerned, but I'm on cloud nine.

"Are you alright? Did I -"

"When can we do this again? That was _rad!_"

I notice his eyes travel downward. He's on his knees hovering over me, hands on either side of my head, and I'm now on my back underneath him. It's a very compromising position that I would be _totally _alright with if the entire coven wasn't watching. He jumps to his feet and extends his hand to help me up. Trying to fight back my blush is going very well for me so far, and we make it halfway back to the rest of the family until he dips his head to whisper in my ear, "You _really_ look adorable when you sleep, Kitten - but I'll stop for your sake. _Maybe._"

I can't stop the blood from flooding my cheeks, and I slap his arm as he saunters away, "I should have called you Creeper!"

* * *

(A/N: Paying tribute to the release of the new Mortal Kombat game with this silly chapter title; I still have yet to play it, but my husband got the chance and said it was awesome! Obviously this is a chapter with a POV shift in it - the only chapter I have like this I think - but I hate putting a warning for POV changes in the middle of a story. It's just not my thing. For this chapter, the fight lasts longer than one song, but Don't Give a Fuck by Suicidal Tendencies is a really good song for Rory so I felt the need to include it, but whatever music tickles your fancy for a fight scene works! Unless a song has some deeper meaning for a chapter, or I can fit it in organically, I generally won't bring it up until the authors note - it's like the POV thing, I just find it a bit tedious. For the most part, this fic was written to the Southern Gothic playlist on Spotify, with a few other songs mixed in. I _highly _recommend trying that out! And thank you to all my lovely viewers/favoriters/followers/readers! You guys are so excellent!3)

(Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.)


	14. Chapter 14

Playing Hooky

"Can you get that silver mirror off the top shelf, Rory?"

"You got it, Evie." It's a month into my stay in Forks, and I _love _it. I love my new job and my new cats and my new friends, and…I think I might love a certain blond, though I'm not putting all my hope into a real relationship yet - there are still a lot of questions we have about each other that are still unanswered.

He's making it too easy to fall for him though; since my car was indeed fucked to the point of having to junk it that day after my first appointment with Carlisle, Jasper takes me to and from work on the days I don't feel like walking and comes and visits me on most of his lunch periods. It's adorable, it's gentlemanly, and therefore I have no idea how to deal with it. Every time he does something endearing, something sweet and thoughtful, I turn into a bumbling idiot.

The rest of my new makeshift family keeps my head level; as level as my head can be, at least. Alice is her usual self, and is at my house often so she can stare out of my window and pine after Bella Swan. I tried to tell her the girl had asked me to get them talking again, but she seems resigned to this course of action for the time being. I don't have much room to talk, though – not like I've made any breakthroughs in my love life. Being the one to take the first step in a relationship is wholly terrifying. The pixie's resolve is going to crack soon, though; I know it.

Emmett and Edward have turned out to be quite the foils of each other, and in turn very different but very brotherly figures in my life. The Professor sifts through my thoughts a great deal, and is the only one who really knows my entire story - because of that we've become pretty close. Colossus is just exactly how I thought he'd be; a friendly, funny goofball with a soft heart; we share a love for video games and comic books and that's created quite the bond between us. He even brings Rosalie over when he visits, and it's nice seeing her out of the Cullen house on common ground. I think she might finally be warming up to me.

I've been attending my twice monthly check-ups with Doc as well - he's finally getting used to my less than lady like qualities - though it's proved fruitless. My diagnosis is the same, to everyone's collective displeasure. Perhaps especially Esme, who has become quite the confidant and friend for me; besides Ed reading it in my thoughts, she's the only one I've really _told_ about my still slightly conflicted feelings for Jasper. I want to tell Al, but she's so forlorn from not talking to Swan for a month.

In real hunter business, I let a few of my contacts know about the Three Stooges, the ones that got away; I might not be able to go after them, but if they come knocking anywhere from here to Volterra, I'll know about it. Bryn would be more than happy to do that job for me if need be.

Shaking myself from my thoughts, I place the requested object in Evie's hand – the vibrant older woman nods in thanks. This is my first real, legitimate job, and I'm glad I'm working for someone as kind as her. My hours are regular, and she doesn't mind that Jasper hangs around the shop often; I think she might actually look forward to his visits more than I do.

There are some cons, though - some things that have my spidey senses tingling.

Like the fact that Charlie Swan _still _thinks that I'm some scumbag older woman preying on a younger guy. With four months to go until graduation and even longer until his mock birthday, the Chief is watching my house every day Jasper shows up. It's nerve wracking – I wish something were happening just so I'd have something to hide. Also because I _really_ wouldn't mind taking whatever Jazz and I are doing here a bit further.

And then there's the dark look sometimes lurking behind my favorite pair of honeysuckle eyes; it's disquieting to say the least, but he's not the only one keeping secrets so I won't press him about it.

When the bell over the shop door rings, I fully expect the object of my affection to walk through the door. Instead Alice bustles in, looking angry; it's an alien look on her face.

"What's up Al?"

"It's the _stupid_ dance," she responds, flopping into a chair behind the counter, "Everyone is asking Bella to go!"

"Swan? Really? Huh." She hadn't struck me as the 'popular' type, but what the fuck do I know about high school anyways? I peer over my bookkeeping for the day as I get ready to close up the shop, "Have _you_ asked her?"

"Well, no. She hates me." Looking like a heartbroken porcelain doll, she sinks farther into her seat.

"She doesn't hate you, and you can't complain about other people being interested when you haven't made a move." I say plainly. She sighs before we say our goodbyes to Evie and I sling my holster back onto my shoulders.

Running her hand through her short dark hair, she grouses, "How does anyone do this love thing?"

"Don't ask me, casual screwing is more my speed, and it's been…Too long." At the look of shock on her face, I snicker, "I think you'd have been more surprised if I'd said I was still a virgin."

"You are a strange one indeed, Rory."

"Speaking of which, where's Jazz?"

She grins, "Your _boyfriend_ wanted me to come pick you up, he went to hunt so he could spend some time with you later."

"Alice, knock that shit off. And I'm sure it was for me and not because he has to go to a veritable blood farm every day. Sure." I roll my eyes, but the blush still rises to my face.

I carefully climb into her car we and head up to the Cullen house - the drive takes half the time in her ride. When we finally get there, I park myself on my usual spot on the porch to have a smoke. Thinking of finally going to get my own car this weekend, nothing like that stupid expensive Porsche, I pull out the harmonica I bought for fun at work a few weeks ago; a joke that had become a real hobby. I strike a few notes on it that resonate in the pit of my stomach before I light my cigarette.

"Play something." Edward emerges from the house and sits on the far side of the steps, leaning back on the railing.

"Where are your famous manners, Professor? I'd take a please." I try to blow a few smoke rings and actually succeed in blowing two.

"_Please,_ Ink."

I look down at the silver harmonica before looking at him again, "You gonna tell me how awful I am again?"

He grimaces, but manages to to turn it into a smile, "You're improving."

With a few last puffs of smoke, I hold the cigarette between my fingers as I start a haunting, lilting melody. Not a few notes in I feel Jasper's return; he must be going to shower before rejoining normal society. I try not to think about him naked too much, because the Professor is here, and I don't think he appreciates it at all; being a mind-reader really blows. Instead I focus on the contentment that surges through me as I continue to blow out a soft tune. John never put much stock in music when I was young, so maybe that's why I love it so much now.

Rosalie and Esme as they join Edward and I, talking quietly amongst themselves. Ed stops me for a moment to adjust my hold on the instrument; leave it to a vampire to know how to play a harmonica perfectly. The change does help, though the superior grin he gives me doesn't. Then Jazz walks out, all tight long sleeve shirt and damp hair. I feel my mouth go dry and a note hangs sour in the air.

I cringe, "Oops, that _was_ awful."

"At least I wasn't the one to say it," Ed ribs me before going back into the house – probably to get away from my less than PG-13 thoughts.

Jasper sits next to me on the step and gives me one of his small, gentle smiles, "I won't be going to school tomorrow; they're blood testing in biology. You free to hang out?"

"Playing hooky, huh? Well, I've got to go in to the store for a while, but I'm sure Evie would love to spend some time with you." I say with a wink.

"Ah, would she now? What about you?"

"If you can't tell I enjoy spending time with you by now, you're blind."

The grin on his face is wicked, "I just like hearing you say it."

I shake my head with a smile as I turn to the blond still sitting on the porch, "You going tomorrow, Rosa?"

"Of course, I've got excellent self-control." She boasts, and realizes the implications too late; I feel Jasper's shame instantaneously.

"Well, whoever decided pricking fingers at school all willy nilly is a good idea is pretty insane. Blood everywhere, diseases – it's just a terrible idea. I'd ditch too." I spit out quickly, and it seems to help to diffuse the situation; Jasper always feels like less of a man because of the difficult time he has resisting blood, but my words seemed to have helped marginally. Either he is blocking me from his emotions or his mood is improving, because he turns to offer me a small, trademark Jazz smile.

"Thank you Amory. We'll see you again tomorrow I hope," Esme says in as she turns back into the house with an apologetic looking Rosalie.

"Pick me up at the usual time?" I return my full attention to the man I'm enamored with.

"I'll be there." He confirms before a peculiar look crosses his face. He approaches me with movements so fluid it's entrancing to watch, and takes only a few long strides before he's at my side. Carefully, slowly, like I'm the world's most fragile object, he lifts my hand from my side; the sensation has my heart thundering in my chest. His eyes are locked on mine, all darkness banished from them as they seem to glow with a soft golden light, and he plants the most fleeting of kisses – with those damn pretty lips - on the back of my hand.

"Goodnight, Amory."

"'Night." I manage to breathe out lowly, rooted to the spot for a moment staring into those pools of warm sunshine. Finally my body moves again, and I teeter unsteadily back to my car.

Goodnight indeed.

* * *

The next morning I'm rushing around my house, trying to both get myself looking presentable and find my holster. I must be adjusting to regular, non-vagabond occult hunter life; I'm so scatterbrained lately it's senseless. It's totally not because I'm looking forward to spending all day with Jasper, or that he kissed my hand last night. No way.

For the millionth time in a month in half, I curse myself for being so daft.

When I hear him finally knock on my door, I do a quick check in the nearest mirror: fully clothed, hair not a _total_ mess, a little makeup…I look like a superhero witch in my leather and denim pants and sheer flowy shirt, but I always look a little strange. I wonder how _ladies_ dressed in the 1800's – the kind of ladies he was interested in. I know not practically for _my_ line of work, but I wonder if Jasper still likes that sort of thing.

I also have an English muffin crammed in my mouth, and that brings me back to reality; I'm going to work, this isn't a damn date. I shrug into my holster, making sure everything is in place. I throw open the door as I grab my jacket and Jasper is there, grinning at my food filled face.

"You look lovely this morning."

I devour the thing in three bites, chewing quickly so I can answer him, "Don't kid yourself; I always look lovely." His laughter is infectious as it rings through the crisp morning air, and I start chuckling as I put on my coat. I lock my door and we make our way to his car.

"How is Betty today?"

He shakes his head as I run my fingers gently over the black paint of his '69 Charger, "I swear you like this car more than me." I notice his aurum eyes follow the feather-light touch of my fingertips, and I _really_ like the look behind them - longing. Pleasurable heat surges through my body from that one glance.

"Jealous Jazz?" I tease, purposefully misinterpreting his statement. He gets flustered, and I give him a good long minute before I speak again, "I _love_ this car; it's got old world charm. Like you."

He falls quiet, bashful once again, and I smile in triumph as I stare out the windshield.

Until I nearly jump out of my seat as he laces his chilled fingers in mine; I look down at the beautiful contrast of his pale scarred hands against my tan and inked skin. It does something weird – a thing I thought I'd become accustomed to since coming to Forks – but not unwelcome. The parts of me that have been trying to get my heart to stop its wanting fall silent; my brain is finally finished playing catch up. I can't stop this now, not even if I really wanted to, and I don't want to. Not anymore.

I'll wait till he's 'eighteen', but if I'm going to Hell soon I might as well go all the way, yeah? Screw dying, screw this being a bad idea, screw trying to fight this; I _want _this - more than I've ever wanted anything.

The coolness feels good against my palm, soothing the faint burn dancing lightly on my skin. I squeeze his hand, almost to test if this is really happening, and he turns to smile at me before bringing our entwined hands to his lips to leave another chaste kiss on my knuckles.

"Trouble."

He's about to say something with a sly grin, but his eyes flick over my shoulder and he looks worried, "That's trouble."

I snap my head to look out the passenger window, and Charlie Swan, chief of police, is staring us down from his driveway, paused halfway into his cruiser.

"_Fuck._" I reach over and turn the keys in the ignition and the car springs to life, "Drive damn it!"

The ride to work is tense, our mixed displeasure at being interrupted bottlenecking any attempt at conversation. Finally he runs a hand through his hair, and holy hell does whatever shampoo or cologne or _whatever _he's wearing smell good. It's like some strange spell has been cast on me – everything he does is suddenly even more irresistible. Maybe I _was_ better off fighting whatever this is.

...Nah.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"For what?" I stop him, unbuckling my seatbelt as soon as we're parked behind the shop so I can turn myself towards him, "I'm not…adverse to…_this_," I gesture between us, clearing my throat, "and it doesn't help that I've got a cop breathing down my neck. I'm terrible at this usually, and I'm probably making an ass of myself right now, but-"

"Take a deep breath, Kitten," he says softly, eyes assessing my flushed face.

I do, and the air is still steeped in his scent. My exhale is a shaky laugh, "You need to tell me what brand of weirdness is going on here. And slow down until you hit eighteen, buddy – at least in public."

He lights up, "So I can touch you as much as I want when no one else is around?"

"Who says stuff like that?" I squeak, popping open the passenger door, "Don't push your luck, you troublesome 'gentleman.'"

He catches up with my hurried steps instantly, grinning ear to ear, "Should I not stay stuff like that?"

I jam my key into the shop lock and throw him a pointed look over my shoulder, "_Trouble_. Look it up in the dictionary, they have your picture right next to the definition." He chuckles lightly before wandering around, letting me do my opening routine, which always always _always_ starts with brewing a pot of coffee; black, bold, and beautiful. Waiting for it to brew, I pull out a battered old receipt book and my inventory binder. As soon as I have all my stuff splayed out on the counter before me, I unlock the register and pour myself a cup of the dark, steaming liquid.

Jasper returns to the front of the large shop with quite a few books in hand and sits in the chair behind my workspace. While he sets the books on the counter next to him, my stomach churns uncomfortably.

Medical texts, hematology and oncology reports, and a few books on the occult – I feel my throat tighten painfully, "There's…Still a few things that I haven't shown you. I've got a couple of books on…Me. Or hunters in general I suppose." Though, Johns journal is just a detailed report on what he did to me, what I was put through. Brief descriptions though, thankfully. I pour myself another cup of coffee and survey him over the steam.

"I'd love to see them," he leans forward and puts his forearms on his knees; it's subtly, sinfully sexy, "we're going to find something soon, I know it."

I set my cup down, and rub at my mouth with a hand before speaking, dreading having a conversation about what'll happen if we don't find an answer, "Look, we should really –"

The chime of the bell cuts me off, and in walks Evelyn, all billowing grey hair and bohemian style. Her sea foam eyes light up when she spots Jasper, "Hello Jasper, shouldn't you be in school young man?"

"Hello Evelin."

"Hi to you too, Evie," I say sarcastically as I nurse my second cup of coffee. Jazz looks frozen past saying hello, so I fill her in in for him, "They were doing blood testing today at school, he gets squeamish around needles."

"Quite the opposite from you then, dear." Her nose crinkles charmingly as she smiles, eyes falling to my exposed tattoos, "You know what they say about that." I cock my head to the side in confusion, and I feel Jasper's curiosity as well. She throws her hands in the air in exasperation.

"Opposites attract; come on, I can't be _that_ old!"

I shake my head and bustle about the shop, making sure everything is in order as Jasper gets absorbed into his research. Not five minutes later, I hear her pipe up again, "It looks like it's going to be a light Thursday. You two should go do something fun, get out of Forks for the day."

Contemplating the situation, I bite my lip; it's my job to stay here and help Evie, but if she's offering a day off, Jazz and I do have quite a bit we need to talk about. Finally, I nod in assent, "As long as you're sure you don't need me."

She looks from Jasper to me and gives me large wink, "Go; young love shouldn't be cooped up inside."

I nearly choke on my final gulp of coffee, "Seriously, are you in league with Alice? This is just too much."

Five minutes later we're on the way back to my house; it's just a brief stop to grab my books before we wander off into the wilds.

* * *

(A/N: I know I say this a lot, but everyone reading this is totally lovely! Since I couldn't find a record of Jasper ever having a car I thought an old Charger would fit him well (The General Lee, anyone?). Swan got _two _cars, and he got _nothing?_ Lame. Stay tuned!)

(Disclaimer: I only own my original character and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.)


	15. Chapter 15

High Stakes

"This is amazing!" I extend my hands to either side of me as I look out over the forest – it's spread out below us from our stony perch among the pines, such a lush green it seems to glow emerald when the sun hits it from between the clouds. Next to me Jasper is working his way through the second of the two books I've shown him; I'm saving the journal for last.

He looks up at my exclamation, face slipping from a look of intense concentration to fondness, "I thought you might like to see the sun for a change."

I sit near him on the large slab of rock, shyly darting my eyes his way, "You've been avoiding the sun around me since I got here; I know what happens to vampires in the sunlight. You afraid I'll freak out when I see you _sparkle?" _I've always found that aspect about vampires, and by extension my venom tattoos, more than a little silly. We're supposed to be tough, but we glitter. _Real_ intimidating.

His mood shifts, "I am a little nervous about it, yeah."

I pat the spot of sun-warmed stone next to me, "I've shown you mine; fair's fair, Jazz."

His eyes fall to the usually faint lines barely visible in the black and red, nearly brilliant white on my skin in the light. Hesitant, he scoots over into my small patch of sunshine. The moment a ray of it hits his marble flesh, it dissolves into ethereal crystal, shattering into a million different prisms. Places on him that are marred gleam almost brighter than the sun. It shouldn't have such an affect on me, I've seen it before, but as usual the sight of Jasper has my heart starting and stopping.

Wonder what he looks like without that shirt.

Just as that thought finishes, a cloud blots out the sun and his skin returns to its normal texture; relief rushes over him. I lean over to the bag I brought. When I pull out John's journal, my harmonica spills out with it. I hand Jasper the journal and fiddle with the shiny trinket.

"This is John's journal."

"Who _is _John?"

"...Just read the book."

While he starts in on the journal I lay back on the still-warm slightly-rough rock, enjoying being outside of civilization for a while – I love Forks, but I can't deny that all my years of traveling left a certain wanderlust in my soul. This trip seems to be more than enough for today, though, and I find myself dozing off next to him, fatigued.

"What…What is all this?"

I'm startled out of my cat-nap by his panicked questions, and I know that he knows without me having to tell him when he flips through the stained, age worn pages; diagrams of marks, details of rigorous training exercises, beatings trespassed on a body too small to bear them are written in a horrifically sterile account.

"What my grandfather did to me."

He sets down the journal, and I see pain and a need for retribution flash across his face. There are a million questions on the tip of his tongue, that's as obvious as his mood; I take the relaxed flavor of our feelings from earlier and try to stifle his anger.

"You got anymore questions?"

He shakes his head tersely, and I know to let him be - if he just told me the same thing, I'd be too livid to speak too. All I can do as minutes pass by is try to project my happiness at being here onto him and wait for his mood to change. When he turns to face me again, his eyes flicker from the harmonica on my lap to my face, and I see mischief outweigh the rage in their aurum depths.

"Play me a song. You have to sing, too."

"I'm awful though," I protest, but I know from the look on his face he won't take no for an answer. I can tell he's trying to get both our minds off the sudden tenseness in the air, so I go bring the instrument to my lips. It doesn't take a half second for me to feel the music resonate within me as I hum out a few notes.

_"_Will you help me out?"

"What'd you have in mind?"

I play the first few notes of Jackson, and he seems to catch on that this is a duet.

My voice is terrible, and my harmonica skills aren't that much better, but that doesn't matter; I'm in a fit of giggles by the end, and he's got that goofy boyish grin on his face. I bare my feelings to him, emboldened by happiness. He's clearly caught off guard and his eyes widen softly.

"What is this?" I manage to keep my voice from shaking, but I can't make it louder than a whisper.

That same pained look again, "Do you…You don't_ dislike_ this, do you?"

"I'm asking the questions here, sir," I say, pointing one end of the harmonica at him, "but no, I don't dislike it. I just…This is different. I've never _cared_ about anyone like this." I catch the look on his face, "I mean that I've never had much more than a relationship based on sex. I don't know what the hell I'm doing." He relaxes, until I say the part about sex, then he's still next to me, eyes darkening to an unfamiliar black.

"What is with the whole 'satanic Jazz' look?"

"_That_ will be part of a later conversation." He states dryly, eyes returning to their usual shade of honey.

"Will you answer my first question then? It's driving me crazy! I'm attracted to you enough without this weird…_Need_."

There is another pregnant pause before he speaks again, "Alice see's you living in her visions."

At the mention of my supposed recovery, I frown, knowing that's a subject we definitely need to breech, "Look, I –"

"She sees us together, Amory.

"You're my soul mate."

I feel my jaw fall as I look at him; of course. Of _course _I'm his soul mate – weird vampire voodoo, "You are the unluckiest guy I've _ever_ met." I'm all at once ecstatic and forlorn at the admission.

"What do you mean?"

"I've been meaning to ask you this for a while, but what are your plans if we _don't_ find a way to save me?"

He goes quiet, and then meets my eyes again, "I couldn't live in a world without you."

I'm not pleased with that answer at all, "Well, I can't die _now._ I die and you die. That…Damn it, that changes a lot." I reach into the bag I packed with the books and grab the flask I always tuck away between the lining in the bag. Taking a hit off it, I shake my head at him.

"This is fucked. I thought this was just some crush, some hopeful imagining of my alcohol addled brain." I put my head between my knees, "We're _both_ doomed."

"I thought you might know the gist of it."

"Yeah, just that; for all the descriptions I received regarding it, none of them touch actually _feeling_ it. I'm feeling pretty naïve for not realizing it sooner." I take another hit off the flask and put it back in the bag, "This sounds ridiculous, but I don't want you to die. Come down with a _serious_ case of dead this time, though."

"The feeling is mutual." He's got that same impatient, dry humor from earlier and I chuckle.

"How does Al see me in these visions? I can't be a vampire."

"You aren't," he laces my fingers in his again, "she says it's hazy; after a certain point it cuts out."

"Guess we've got a lot more work ahead of us. I'll get in contact with some sources and we'll figure this out." I allow hope to dig its way into my heart, a small smile on my face. He tugs on my hand and I end up with my head resting on his shoulder.

"What if she is wrong, Jazz? What if -"

I can tell he's fighting the urge to reach out to me; his emotions are painted with the fear and desperation in the both of us, "I can't accept that. I'll do whatever it takes, and if that's not enough –"

"We'll have a long distance relationship from Hell." I finish the statement with a forced laugh, and he rises to his feet to help me up.

"Let's get you home."

We go back the same way we got here; I get the world's most awesome piggy back ride until we reach Betty, and then it's just a short drive back to my house. It takes all of ten minutes, but dusk is quickly falling by the time we pull into my driveway

He walks me to the door, and we're both keenly aware of the approach of the Chiefs cruiser. I sit on the porch and Jazz perches himself on the landing just above me, watching the man across the street like a hawk.

"Everything alright?"

"He's just always so _suspicious_."

"You're telling me." We both go quiet as the chief of police makes his way from his car to his house. When he's finally inside, Jasper leans over and begins to whisper in my ear.

Then Alice drives up.

"Damn it." I whisper under my breath, but the man next to me hears it clear as day. He laughs lightly, and the cool sensation of his breath against my neck causes a pleasant thrill to crawl down my spine.

"We'll have to continue this later. She _is_ blocking the nosy neighbor, though." He pulls me up from the porch, flush against the side of his body, and guides me into the house. The feel of solid, lean muscle under my fingertips, the feel of Jasper under my fingertips, has my knees knocking and my mind racing.

The things I'm going to do to him...

Alice comes bounding into the house before we have a chance to shut the door behind us, and I pull away from…whatever the mysterious blond is to me now.

I try to remain casual, "Hey Al, what's up?"

Her eyes are shining brightly for the first time in weeks, "Guess what?!"

I glance at Jazz with furrowed brows before I bend down to pet my three furry hellions, "What?"

"I sat with Bella at lunch! And blood testing went _awfully_; she almost passed out, so I had to drive her home!"

"That sounds terrible, why are you so happy about it?"

"I got to spend time with her, finally!" Her triumphant attitude turns inquisitive, "Where were you two? I kept calling and calling, and I finally got a vision that you were headed back."

"I took Rory somewhere she could relax."

She sighs dreamily, "Oh. Well, we need to go; Charlie is going to decide to come over here, soon."

"That guy," I scoff, following them back out onto the porch. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Alice is already halfway to her car, but Jasper doesn't look ready to leave. He stands on the grass at the bottom of my porch, pale face illuminated in the dusky overcast light.

"Now you know why our goodbyes are so difficult."

"I always knew why they were difficult. I'll see you tomorrow Jazz." I turn back into my house, thoughts muddled in confusion.

Here I thought Forks was a refuge, a calm oasis in the storm. It's turning out to be a bedlam mired in love and lust with the highest stakes I've ever played to - somewhere between life and death, with love hanging precariously in between. I just hope my soul mate's conviction to save me is enough.

* * *

A few days of almost normalcy pass before things stir up again. And of course, when it rains in Forks, it's a shit storm.

I haven't seen the Cullen family in two days, as it has been sunny and I've been busy; that's rectified late into the evening on March eighth; I'm greeted at the door coming home from work by a very distressed looking Jasper, "Kitten, we've got a problem."

"Trouble, we're in Forks - there's _always_ a problem" By crossing my arms and shifting on my feet I successfully resist the urge to hug him.

"Alice is on her way to Port Angeles; Bella is about to be attacked by some thugs."

I'm walking to Betty before he finishes the sentence, and I notice the shaken look in his eye as he steps into the car, "That girl just can't catch a break, can she? You okay?"

He nods, and grabs my hand as soon as we're both situated in his car, "Alice was _r__eally_ panicked. It had an effect."

"I assume she's already on the way to play hero."

"She went with Edward and Emmett, Rosalie is furious. I would have been here sooner, but I had to keep her calm enough to make sure she wouldn't try to stop Alice."

"Not to mention her and Colossus can't be separated for a nanosecond without having withdrawals."

"It's getting just as bad for me," he says and I squirm in response.

"Did you come get me to flirt or tell me news?"

"Both."

"Drive faster, grandpa. Your age is showing, and we have important stuff to do."

"You get so defensive when I make you blush."

"Just get us to Port Angeles," I grumble, slightly embarrassed, but squeeze his hand affectionately despite my tone.

The usual hour long drive takes twenty-five; after that comment about his age, I guess Jazz felt he had something to prove. We drive the streets of the medium sized port city, and every so often I fire up my marks, trying to see if I can sense Swan.

"I can barely smell your blood when you do that."

We're stopped at a light, and I notice Jasper staring at me. "That a good or bad thing?"

"Both," he shifts uncomfortably, turning his gaze to the road in front of us at the light changes, "It's nice to not be tempted by your blood, but...It…"

"It's alright, Jazz. What's it like?"

"I don't know if I can describe it – it's like dying of thirst in a desert, and smelling rain on the wind; refreshing and exhilarating."

"That's poetic as hell for being about you wanting to drink my blood."

He opens his mouth to say something but then looks sharply out of the driver side window, "Found them."

We drive down a few more side streets before Al's car finally comes into view, along with three thugs, one of which has a firm grip on Swan's wrist.

"You've gotta drive Al's car - I'm going to get them to let Swan go and you three are going to get the fuck out of here, alright? I'll find you later."

"Rory, you can't -"

I'm out of the car before he fully stops, only pausing briefly to ramp up the volume on the sound system. Rushing out into the dimly lit street, I stand between the thugs and Al. Now that this whole mate thing is becoming real, I know I'd want to kill anyone who hurt Jasper, and the last thing we need is a blood bath.

"Oh, another hot piece of ass, I –" Jazz's outrage at the goon's statement is palpable in the air; all the vampires in the area need to leave before I start throwing punches. _Now._

I tune out the scumbag as I whisper to the pixie, who looks tense enough to snap, "As soon as they let Swan go, _get to your car."_

Swan looks absolutely terrified as her wide brown eyes flick from me to Al, who lets out a low growl beside me.

"It is _seriously_ in your best interest if you let that girl go now. The beating I'm gonna give you is going to suck, but not as much as what my friend's will do to you."

They must decide that I'm a far more interesting target, because they actually let Swan go in favor of advancing on me. Alice does as I ask, and while I know Jazz is struggling to leave, he finally goes speeding down the street when he sees me cock my arm back to break one of the ruffian's nose. He drops to the asphalt like a sack of shit; it's quick work. I have a lot of stamina when I don't have to use my tats, and this fight is all too predictable. I've been in more than a few bar fights on top of my usual lunacy that passes for a profession. The next guy has the sloppiest uppercut I've ever seen - all I have to do is sidestep him and ram his face into the side of the nearest object, which happens to be a brick wall. I end it with a roundhouse kick to the final thug's head, because why not finish in style.

"Fucked up by a woman with _cancer._ You boys shouldn't quit your day jobs. Or maybe you should _get_ day jobs." They're all on the pavement in the time it takes finish the Daft Punk song I cranked a few minutes ago. Chuckling as I take a cigarette out of the silver case, I place the smoke between my lips and bend to wipe the blood on my knuckles off on one of their jackets before I pull out my lighter.

"I see you punks again it won't be nearly as pleasant of a visit. We clear?"

The two who are conscious stare up at me, terrified; I take that as an affirmative so I walk back to Betty. Driving her is a dream - I'm glad it's not Al's car. I finally get from side alleys back to one of the main streets - I decide to follow the faint tug on my heart. It works; not too far down the road, I spot a familiar Volvo and Porsche, with nearly everyone I know crowded in the sidewalk in front of a restaurant. Skidding to a stop in a spot across the street, I jaywalk to my friends.

"Are you alright?" Jasper looks me over anxiously, "That didn't take long."

"They weren't exactly my normal prey." I turn to Swan and Al, "You two good?"

Swan nods numbly, and Alice ushers her into the restaurant, "She needs to eat something."

"We're going to go," Edward says, shaking his head at his sister's departure, "See you guys later."

"Yeah, see ya; let Rosa know things went alright, Colossus."

"I will; thanks Ink." With that, the brothers get into the Volvo and disappear into the winding streets of Port Angeles.

My full attention is now on Jasper, "That was a wild ride, huh? I need a drink."

I lead him into the same restaurant our friends just went in; halfway to the front door he slings an arm around my shoulders.

"Trouble?"

"There's no Chief here, Kitten. Let's just be us for tonight."

I settle happily against his side, snaking my own arm around his waist, "Sounds good."

My prayers that this place would have a full bar have been answered; it's dimly lit, the only light coming from the dark red wall lights and candles placed on the tables. He grabs a seat as I saunter up to the counter, "I'll have a whiskey, please."

The bartender behind the counter looks from me to my 'date' - we must look like quite the comical pair; he's in a button up with a sweater over it, looking as wholesome as apple pie(and more than a little endearingly proper), and I look like...

Me. Enough said.

"Anything for your friend?" The woman's eyes jerk from me to Jazz again. I don't put much thought in the obviously amorous look she gives him; who can blame her? I'm not threatened in the least.

"He's good, thanks."

I make my way back to Jasper, drink in hand, and I notice the amusement in his eyes as I take a seat, "What?"

"Why whiskey?"

"It's just always been my drink of choice - that or anything with a wicked burn."

"…I used to like whiskey too, back in the day."

I laugh, and he smiles at the sound, "That's simply scandalous – guess being twenty-one didn't count for a damn back then." Pausing to take a long sip, I study him over the rim of the glass.

"Tell me something else about you, Mister Mystery."

"You're one to talk about mystery," he jokes, then settles back into his chair, arms folded over his chest and a relaxed smile on his face.

"I was a Confederate soldier during the Civil War."

"Ouch; glad you guys got your asses kicked, must've sucked for you though."

"I didn't join it for the cause, I joined to help people. My 'talent'…I was always good at empathizing, even back then." He stops and leans towards me again, speaking softly, "She just told Bella everything."

"How's that going?"

"Better than Alice expected, I think. The girl feels relieved more than anything."

I drain the rest of my drink and slip a ten under the glass as I set it back down, "Let's get out of here; Swan will have a lot of questions when she see's us next and I don't feel like answering them tonight."

* * *

We banter about random topics on the way back to my house – Al texted me minutes after we left asking if I would wait up for her. By the time we pull into my driveway, she's not that far behind; a minute later she's dropping Swan off and darting over.

"You told her. You really did it." I surprise myself by laughing.

"She's glad she isn't going crazy, and she's glad we don't all hate her. There's still a lot left to tell her, but she was more _receptive _to the idea than I thought she'd be." She zones out, a faraway and longing look in her eyes, "We're going to try being together."

"Rosalie is gonna have a _fit._" That won't be a pretty scene when she finds out. I start pacing in front of my television, "Are you sure you did the right thing Al?"

"She's not," Jasper doesn't give her the chance to bluff; he must be able to feel the conflict in her emotions that she's not showing on her face.

She looks between us pleadingly, "I don't see anything bad happening, I promise. I'm in love with her; you two should be able to sympathize with that."

"_S__low down._ I just found out about the whole being Jasper's mate thing a few days ago, this _just happened._ I'm not about to automatically profess my love - what's happening _here_," I say, pointing between my blondie and I, "and what's happening _there_," I wave from Alice to my front door, gesturing at the house across the street, "are two _very _different situations."

"Oh come on, it isn't that –"

"They're two different _galaxies." _Flopping down in my chair, I ask what's really been bothering me about all of this, "How the hell did she not figure all of this out sooner?"

The pixie looks across the street in reflex, even though my blinds are drawn, "It was just the confirmation that she needed; I'm sure she suspected for longer than I thought."

Stretching as I rise from my chair I shake my head at the absurdity that is my life, "You should go tell everyone else about this...It's going to change some stuff. Potentially a lot of stuff."

Her eyes fill with dread, "You're right."

"I'll support you. Tread carefully, yeah?" She nods and heads for the door after giving me a brief hug. I flick my gaze to the left and see a hopeful pair of golden eyes.

"You've gotta go too. It's late and the last thing I need is another friendly visit from the Chief."

Jasper frowns, clearly disappointed, "It's been two days since I've seen you."

"Don't make that pouting face; I can't take it," I sigh, walking towards the door, "I'm not the one that decided to pose as an underage high school student. I don't want to be the town creeper, and _you_ have class in the morning."

That sad look is still on his face, "Here's another deal: You 'turn eighteen' and you can stay here whenever you want."

His face changes instantly, trademark mischievous twinkle in his eye as his lips pull into a smirk, "Are you asking me to move in after I graduate? Didn't know we were that serious yet, Kitten."

"Don't be ridiculous." I say as coolly as possible, holding open my front door, trying not to acknowledge how lovely the thought of spending all of my time with him is, "I could take it back, you know."

"You won't," he reaches out and brushes a stray strand of hair out of my face. I feel the faintest whisper of his fingers against my brow, but the specter touch is gone quickly and he's walking out the door right after.

"Damn you, Jazz."

* * *

(A/N: BAH! Something about this chapter rubs me the wrong way. Hope it's up to snuff! Thanks thanks thanks for reading! :3)

(Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.)


	16. Chapter 16

Best of Times, Worst of Times

The harsh, grating ring of the phone goes off for the millionth time today,"This is the Use It or Lose It, what can I do for you?" Thank God we close soon, I'm starting to sound as beat as I feel.

As soon as I'm done with the phone call, I notice a set of gilded eyes regarding me over a book display.

"You feeling alright?" Jasper sounds more than concerned.

Not really, I'm tired and cranky and the mark for my pain is burning harshly against my flesh, but I don't let him know that, "Just looking forward to my weekend." I manage to keep the tremor out of my voice.

"Rory…" he stands from his seat and crosses the shop to me, taking one of my hands in his – now a regular gesture when people aren't around – before staring down at me with a pained look, "I can feel it. If it's getting worse, you have to tell Carlisle."

"Some days are just harder," I say whisper quiet, looking down at our entwined hands. The cool feel of his fingers in mine gets me thinking, and before either of us can question what I'm doing I have his palm pressed flat against the blaze on my chest. My eyes close in relief at the soothing, icy chill. I can't ignore how goddamn good it feels to have more intimate skin-on-skin contact than hand-holding; it leaves me biting my lip in an effort to smother a moan, which doesn't doesn't work. The sound leaves my mouth and lust not my own sears me white hot, more intensely and _far_ more pleasantly than any of my marks. I release him a moment later when I realize he's staring at me with that increasingly frequent dark look.

"And you tell me _I'm_ trouble?" His voice is almost a low growl as he presses his hand back against the heated mark, and I gasp in shock as I back up and bump into the shelving behind me. He's stopped breathing, probably to try to ward off the close proximity of my blood; my whole body seems flushed.

His thumb runs lazily against another one of my marks, right on the small swell of my breast. When his eyes lock with mine again, that dark look is gone, replaced by one of sheer _longing_. I'm about to lose my fucking mind.

"You're a tease, Kitten."

I swear if he kisses me right now I'm going to lock this door and -

I finally come back to my senses and pull back, nervous energy now charging my fatigued body, "_Me?_ _You're_ the one that's going to give me a damn heart attack." This time I can't keep the slight shake out of my voice, so I busy myself with closing up the shop for the evening. Those honey eyes are on me again as I move about the room, I can _feel _it.

In my ruffled state I decide to do the bare minimum of my job; I need to get the hell out of here so I can stop replaying that scene in my head. When he passes me so I can lock up, I catch that damn scent again - why why _why_ didn't I just jump his bones? _What_ morals am I holding on to? I know I don't want to rush things, but this is just getting out of control. I'm left feeling completely unsatisfied and more than a little exhausted as we walk back to Betty. I sink into the leather seat with a sigh.

"I'm going to sleep for a year."

"Don't do that, we've got plans tomorrow," Jasper says as the engine turns over, flashing me a smile as he turns around to back out of the parking space.

"What plans?" My eyelids are drooping; I can't fight sleep much longer.

"Alice is bringing Bella over to meet everyone."

My laugh is slurred - I sound drunk, "Oh, _that_ I can't miss."

As the Charger pulls out into the road, I fall fast asleep.

* * *

I wake up at the crack of dawn the next morning, tucked neatly into my own bed still dressed without my shoes. I swivel my head around the room even though I know Jasper isn't here – the small ache in my heart tips me off. My usual morning routine is done with an absentminded grin; today is going to be a good day, I can feel it.

Dressed in a simple pair of leggings and a cut up Slayer shirt over a mesh bra, with my usual boots and an obscene amount of my marks are showing through the ripped fabric, I regard my reflection carefully. I'm grateful to Jazz for being so damn sweet, but after yesterday...If he's going to call me a tease, that's what I'll be; I'll rub what he wants right in that beautiful, troublesome face -

When Emmett's Jeep pulls up to the curb of my house, I'm on the porch ready to go, characteristic cigarette hanging loosely from my lips.

"Ink, how's it going?" He's the first one to greet me as I walk past his side, all smiles per usual.

"It's going, Colossus," I nod at his wifey in the passenger seat, "how are you two?"

"I've been better," Rosalie says, and she still sounds as displeased as she did days ago – she's growing less fond of Swan as the days pass. I'm curious as to _why._

She's in the front seat with Emmett, so I step up and climb over the closed door, settling into the backseat.

"Hey Rory."

On instinct I grab his hand, "Jazz. Thanks for yesterday." He runs his thumb over my knuckles, blatantly staring at me with hunger in his eyes not attributed to thirst. This is too easy.

Rosalie raises a perfect eyebrow at us in the rearview, "What does that mean?"

I smirk, "You sure you wanna know?"

"No, definitely not."

The three of us laugh without her, but she eventually joins along with a roll of her eyes and a small chuckle. Our conversation on the short ride to the Cullen residence is animated, and I try to keep the focus away from our upcoming re-introduction to Bella. As much as the family is wary about her reaction to their vampirism and lifestyle, I'm feeling even more dread; explanations, _again. _I'm gonna pawn it off on Al.

By the time we get there, Rosalie is silent in the front seat again, pensive. Jazz helps me hop out of the Jeep, but I drop his hand so I can tug on his sister's sleeve.

"You got a minute?"

She's surprised, but nods. We walk to the large garage situated on the property. Florescent lights buzz to life, illuminating the cacophony of expensive cars in vivid hues resting on smooth, stain free cement. Rosa pulls out a wheeled stool from under the counter, and I do what I usually do – hop on top of said counter. When we're both seated, she stares at a piece of machinery on the bench next to me.

"Well, here we are."

"Indeed," I agree, "You mind if I smoke in here?"

"I mind that you do it at all," her nose crinkles, "go ahead, though."

I strike one up, "So, why are you so pissed about this?"

She counters my question with another, "What do you think about immortality, Rory?"

"Same thing I think about mortality – it's all a crapshoot." Smoke rises towards the ceiling as I speak.

"Do you _have _to swear so much?"

"It's stress relief."

"Do you _have_ enough vices?"

"I can think of a few more," I say, grinning at her exasperated tone, "back to the point. Why?"

"That girl, Swan, she doesn't give it half a mind. Alice mentions she saw it in a vision, and she's so quick to give up her life." She starts tinkering on the part in front of her with skilled hands, "I didn't _want_ this, I can't imagine anyone _wanting_ this."

"How'd it happen?" I take a long drag off my cigarette; I have a feeling it won't be my last in this conversation.

"I…Would it surprise you that I was _always_ the prettiest girl?" She says boastfully, giving me a look that's all fluttering lashes and faux smiles, "From the moment I was born in nineteen fifteen, I was the apple of everyone's eye. Everything I wanted I got, and anything I didn't get I made sure no one else wanted."

"Don't go too overboard, there."

"I'm giving you an overview," she replies coolly, "I was very shallow and materialistic in my former life."

_"Was?"_

"Are you going to continue being a smart-ass?"

"Oh, who's swearing now Rosa?"

She grins, belying her annoyed tone, "Are you going to _listen_?"

"I'm sorry, go on Rosalie, oh beautiful one."

"That's better," she continues working on the part in front of her, smile fading on her face, "anyway, it was nineteen thirty three, I was a teenage girl, and I was in love. Or so I thought," her eyes flicker to me for a moment, "love is rarely something you get right the first time.

"My father owned a bank, and my mother dressed me up and sent me with his lunch one day to attract a suitor. It worked; I had Royce wrapped around my finger instantly. He was wealthy, I was beautiful and young, and everything was idyllic.

"Then one day, I went to see my friend Vera. She had just had a baby; the cutest little boy, all dark hair and fair skin. Her husband came home during our visit and kissed her – _really_ kissed her –and I realized just how…Loveless it was between Royce and I. It was dark by the time I left, and as I was walking home, all I could concentrate on was how perfect everything was for my friend, and how hollow everything was for me. I was distracted, planning a way to fix things, so Royce and his friends caught me unaware.

"They were deep in the bottle, fresh out of the bar, and ready to start something. They saw their opportunity in _me._ They raped me, beat me, and left me for dead in a gutter."

"_Fuck -"_

"Carlisle, Esme, and Edward arrived to save me; they'd been transplants in our town that I hadn't paid much mind. Carlisle was the one to change me, hoped I'd be for Ed what he was for Esme. Neither of us wanted a relationship, but I remember being so _angry_ he didn't want me. Everyone had wanted me. I looked into the mirror for the first time after being changed, and I _hated_ myself."

"Didn't see that coming, I'd have thought you'd be ecstatic at being even more beautiful."

"I was already beautiful; it was like looking at a porcelain mask of myself,just as lifeless as a doll. I had a life, it was _taken_ from me, and I was beyond fury; I begged Carlisle to let me find Royce and his friends. I _needed_ revenge for my death.

"So I found all of his friends and killed them all, slowly, one at a time, careful not to spill a drop of their _filthy _blood. I wanted no part of any of them in me, even if it meant their death.

"I saved my loveless fiancé whose deeds had ensured the end of life as I knew it for last. He had locked himself in a room, behind a vault door guarded by two men. After I killed them, I got in and found Royce scared and alone – just like I had been when he'd taken my life. He _begged_ for mercy, and I gave him _none_. Seven men all killed in a vengeful rage."

"_All right! _Scumbags got what was coming," I'm halfway through another cigarette, enthralled by her tale of retribution, "what did you do afterwards, miss badass?"

"I went back with Carlisle, Esme, and Edward to try their way of life. At the time, it wasn't my idea of perfect – I hated it for two years."

"What happened after two years?"

"She found me in the mountains, dying," Colossus's voice sounds uncharacteristically quiet as he enters the large garage, "I was mauled by a bear, and Rosalie was my guardian angel."

She looks very pleased at his praise, and surprisingly a little embarrassed as well, "He…Reminded me of _innocence_, something I thought my new life devoid of. I carried him a hundred miles, and resisting the smell of his blood was more difficult than you can imagine. I made it back to Carlisle, and I urged him to change the dying man. He did, and I was fortunate he did; Emmett turned out to be my true soul mate."

He smooths her hair over her shoulder, and then runs his thumb against her perfect marble cheek. The action is so intimate that I have to turn away, and even then it has my mind racing to yesterday, thinking of Jasper's cool palm pressed against my heated chest. I draw in a shallow breath.

"Now you know why her circumstances make me think this isn't the life for her." Rosa starts again, her husband's large hand comfortingly on her shoulder, "She's got her whole life ahead of her – she could have a _family_. Ever since I saw Vera's son that day, it was all I ever wanted, and because of _this_, it's something I'll never get. Coming to terms with it is one thing, seeing someone so careless with their own mortality is different."

"Shouldn't you be just as mad at me?" Not that I could have a family if I wanted to - all my marks have left me sterile.

"You're dying, Rory. I don't think you'll live without our help, and even if you did…You don't seem like the type of person who ever had the chance at having anything normal, no offence."

I smile as I hop off the cabinet, "Way to hit the nail on the head, Rosa. Thanks for explaining things for me."

"You two go on ahead, I'm going to…Stay here for a while." The blonde is already turned back to her equipment, focused.

"We have a bit of a problem, Rory." Colossus says as we walk to the door, more serious than usual.

"What's going on?"

"Alice says there are three vampires near the area – they don't seem to want to come to Forks, but we need to be on guard." The Three Stooges, I know it's them; wonder if they'll be stupid enough to come back to Forks.

I nod and we leave the bright garage and enter the house, where soft light is spilling through the glass back of the house. A piano melody is wafting through the air, lilting and almost melancholy, and it draws us to the living room where Ed is playing for the family minus Rosa. Swan is there, next to Al, and their arms are entwined together behind their backs.

They've been 'together' two days, don't spend nearly as much time talking as Jazz and I, aren't as _old_ as us, but are somehow getting farther faster? This isn't fair. I _really_ need to get over the whole 'fear of having a functional relationship with a vampire while dying' thing and get on my game.

I feel him approaching from the left, his motions stiff. I know it's hard for him to be around Ed and Swan in the same room; being able to feel thirst through his empathy sucks. When he's close enough, his fingers lace with mine and to take his mind off all the blood currently hanging out in the living room I let down my usually guarded emotions for him. It works; for the remaining minute of the song he's captivated enough to relax a little.

"Not bad, Professor," I say, after the music dies down, "still not as awesome as my harmonica, but pretty good."

"'Professor'? I hear a timid voice ask, and turn to face Swan and Al, still glued together at the hip.

"He reads minds, like Professor Xavier. X-Men? Am I the only one who reads comics around here?"

"No," Emmett chimes from the couch, "I've got a couple new issues of Deadpool, if you want to check 'em out."

"The merc with a mouth?" I press both my hands over my chest dramatically, "Heart be still; he's _so_ fine."

"Hey," Jazz pulls me by the hand onto the couch with him, "do I have competition here?"

I smile slyly in response, turning my attention to the only other human in the room, who looks like her head is about to explode with all the questions she wants to ask, "I don't think we were ever _properly_ introduced. Amory Belmont, hunter extraordinaire."

"A hunter?" She lets go of her girl, much to the pixies dismay, and sits in a nearby chair. Al perches herself on the arm of the chair, never straying too far.

The pixie gives me a sharp look, one that tells me not to say another word on the matter. Must not want to spring too much on the girl at once.

"Have Al tell you later - I'm sick of explaining this shit."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Will that satisfy your curiosity?"

"No," she offers me a small, unsure smile, "what are all those score marks for?"

I glance at the small patch of that monster of a piece I can see. It spans one of the gaps inside the red down my side and across half my back; four lines with a fifth struck through, all in black, small and numerous.

"My kill count." The room goes deathly silent, the only sound the breathing of Swan and I.

"…Rory, there are _hundreds,"_ Jasper says quietly, awe curbed by anger, "this started when you were _thirteen?_"

I rub the back of my neck, wondering what he's going to do when he learns my whole history if he's already this pissed.

_"This_ tally started when I was twenty three. There were…A lot before that."

"Why start at twenty-three, why not all of them?"

"Because that's when they started to count, Colossus." I can't keep the cold edge out of my voice as I rise from the couch. Staring out the back window, I go quiet.

"There's supposed to be a thunderstorm headed this way in a few hours," Carlisle says, catching on quick that I don't want to talk about that part of my life yet, "we could play baseball."

"Baseball?" Swan cocks her head to the side, clearly not expecting us all to act so…Normally?

It _is_ the great American pastime, after all.

* * *

I'm standing at the front door an hour and a half later with Rosa and Em, waiting patiently for everyone else. Or, as patiently as I can manage; a minute in I'm wiggling around anxiously.

"Try not to piss your pants Ink."

"Stuff it Colossus. I'm just excited."

As usual, as soon as Jazz comes into view I'm a mess – this whole tight baseball tee look is really _really_ good on him. And the hat just seals the deal. Goddamn it's just not fair.

"Don't get _too_ excited there, Kitten," he says as we leave the house, following the others, "you're making it hard for me to concentrate."

"Good." I say, not missing a beat, "I'm just returning the favor, and I don't feel bad. At all." I start walking towards the cars, but a cool hand on the small of my back guides me to the edge of the forest instead.

"We're running there," he removes the cap from his head and settles it backwards on mine, "you ready?"

Being suddenly surrounded by his scent has me all kinds of stupid, so instead of waiting for a reply he scoops me up into his arms, making sure I'm safely cradled against his chest. To add to my ever deepening flustered state, he peers down at me, softening his voice.

"I like having you in my arms."

"You're the – Ahh!" He darts into the trees, going so fast the world around us is a blur.

It takes just a minute to get to our destination, and Jasper sets me down in the large clearing we've taken to using for sparing, "What was that you were saying?"

We're the first ones here, which will probably change soon, so before I can think better of it I stand on my tip toes; our lips don't touch, but I can feel the chill emanating from them, even through my own warm breath.

"You're the one who's a fucking tease Trouble."

I pull away quickly, just as Al and Swan enter the clearing. The teenager looks excited; I wonder if that was the first time Al's shown her what vampires can do. When I turn back to Jazz, he's still rooted to the spot, eyes darkened. Maybe I went a _little_ overboard.

"Well, let's play." At my words, the malicious look fades away, back to my mate's usual easy smile, and I feel relieved.

We get into positions; Carlisle is pitching, Esme is umpiring with Swan off to the side, and I'm on a team with Al and Ed, who is first to bat. Jasper keeps glancing at me from the outfield, much to his teammates' displeasure.

"Ink, you're gonna have to start wearing more clothes – Jazz can't handle all the skin."

"Pay attention! I'm not about to lose to a _human_." Rosa throws me a wink and I grin; I like her more and more.

Carlisle pitches at full tilt, and the resounding crack of it off the bat sounds like rolling thunder. The roar tears itself through the sky almost as quickly as the baseball; it soars through the air, and both Jazz and Emmett fly after it. Ed makes first base, and Al hands me the bat, a large grin on her face.

Spoiler alert; I'm terrible at sports but _awesome_ at hitting stuff.

Another flawless pitch comes flying at me, and my tattoos surge with heat. The ball finally seems to be going normal speed, and when the bat connects with it viciously I feel the vibration all the way in my bones. As soon as I see it fly towards left field, I'm already halfway to first base.

The game continues like this for a half hour, with the actual thunder from the storm filling in the gaps of our game. It's fun, and I'm more than a little muddy – I always manage to get dirty. Directly after a hit, Alice drops the bat, eyes wide.

"They've changed course - they're coming here!"

"How far out?" I ask, joining everyone as they crowd around Swan, "How many?"

"All three, and they'll be here any minute! We don't have time to get Bella back and –"

"And we're going to act like nothing is going on here," Carlisle says, calmly, "Bella, if you would please take your hair out of that ponytail – we need to disguise the scent of your blood."

Al quickly explains the situation to Swan as she helps fix her hair. Girl really _can't_ catch a break.

"I had a feeling it was gonna be a _good_ day," my teeth are bared in a feral smile.

"We're trying to _avoid_ a fight, Amory. Back to the game; be natural. Esme and I will stay near Bella."

I nod, knowing full well those three idiots will be stupid enough to make the first move, and take my place at first base, watching as Jasper winds up to bat. The faintest twinge of battle lust reverberates through me, and I can see that he feels it. We've been more careful with our emotions in our practice fights since the first time, but this is different; potentially dangerous.

They emerge from the forest after he makes contact with the ball, a petite pale hand snatching it cleanly out of the air.

It's the Three Stooges all right; Frenchie, Red, and Stretch have come back to Forks to play.

"We heard your game, wanted to see if you had room for a few more," Frenchie is still acting like the leader again, and I broadcast everything I know about the three in front of us to Professor X. Red smiles and it's so full of malice it sets me instantly on edge. Her eyes widen when she spots Jasper and his scars; they land on me a moment later.

I like the look of fear in those blood-red eyes; she knows if they make a wrong move they are far past fucked. The three of them are on instant alert, so I raise my hands in surrender – mock surrender of course, but they don't know that.

"She's part of our family." Carlisle interjects smoothly before things can get wild, all silver tongue and trickery, "Allow me to introduce ourselves; I'm Carlisle, this is my wife Esme, Edward, Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, Rory, Alice, and Bella." He introduces everyone in turn, and Bella is clearly shocked to hear herself in the list. "Who are you and what brings you to Forks?"

"My name is Victoria; remember it." Red commands haughtily, staring down her nose at us.

"James," Stretch states, clearly not into introductions.

"I'm Laurent. A pleasure to meet you all. As for Forks…Well, we're just passing through. I hope our visit will be a bit more…_Pleasant _than last time."

"We'll see; your words are being weighed, bloodsucker - not telling the truth is apt to get you ashed."

"Don't get upset, _hunter_. It's the truth." I really don't like this bitch's attitude.

Then, things get screwy with the slightest change of the wind. Swan's hair moves from its protective curtain, and they smell her in the next instant. Red and Frenchie seem to have a good hold on their thirst, but Stretch is a different story; he lowers into a predatory stance and advances, eyes intent on Swan. Al is in the same stance in a flash, a snarl rivaling a mountain lion ripping itself from her throat. The rest of us throw ourselves between the vampire and the the human girl who looks like she's about to faint. Everyone finally manages to get a hold of themselves; Stretch still looks like he might pounce any second.

"A snack?" Laurent asks, clearly unamused by the turn of events.

"A friend; we don't drink from humans. We survive on animal blood."

"She's protected; if you value your un-lives, don't make another move," I add. Chancing a glance at Jazz, I see his face is as grim as mine, but the same excitement building in me is burning in his eyes.

"If you vow not to attack her, or anyone in the immediate area, we'll take you back to our house." Carlisle is all charm again, "We're nothing if not hospitable."

Laurent looks to his companions. Red looks indifferent, but James still hasn't taken his eyes off Bella, now situated behind three capable killers. It's a look of pure obsession, and I don't like it one bit. I can tell Carlisle is trying to buy us time to leave, so I move to the back and grab Al's arm.

"Get her the hell out of her. Take Ed and Em; the rest of us will handle this."

She nods frantically, taking off for the tree line hand in hand with her girlfriend, her brothers not far behind. The mind-reader looks more than serious, and gives me a warning look before taking off through the trees.

We run back to the Cullen house, and this time I don't let Jasper carry me – I can't appear weak before an enemy, even if it does put me at a disadvantage if they try to attack. It's all quiet until we get to the porch, where Stretch breaks the silence.

"I'm going to go…Hunt. I'll be back." Yeah, that was a convincing lie.

"I'll accompany you; after all we wouldn't want to hurt any of _their_ precious humans." Red agrees, pulling her gaudy fur coat more tightly around her.

They leave before anyone has the chance to say nay, and they abandon a very confused Frenchie with us. I snarl, putting Alice's earlier roar to shame, the sound is borne of frustration and rage.

"Shoulda ashed you three when I had the chance."

I start for the garage and my mate is right behind me, "Where are you going?"

"Shit is about to get real, and I have a feeling I'll need a few things. You coming?"

He nods, and we book it to my house – Swan's life is in danger, again. At least I get the chance to finish a botched job.

* * *

I hear Swans entire tirade to her dad across the street as I gather a few things, and it breaks my heart; I never had a dad, but I can say for sure if he was anything like Charlie I wouldn't be treating him like this. Why doesn't she just explain everything now, get it over with if she's set on becoming immortal? I know she's trying to protect him but…Fuck. I kind of want to smack her, but here I am scrambling to protect her.

Well, protect my family, anyways; she just happens to be becoming part of it.

My usual hunting kit get's thrown haphazardly into a small leather drawstring backpack - a change of clothes, my tattooing paraphernalia, and a flask of whiskey - and that bag get's slung snugly over my shoulders. My fingers check that everything else I need is secure in my holster. Jasper is still at the front door, watching the house across the street like a hawk.

"Anything?" My cat's rub against my legs as if knowing I'll be gone; I pause before leaving to make sure they have enough food for a nuclear winter.

"Nothing," He takes another sweep with his eyes as I lock my front door, "I can _feel_ him, though. It's like hes addicted."

Just as we reach Betty, Swan comes storming out of her house, suitcase in hand, looking like a woman possessed. She tears the door to her truck open and slams it behind her, Alice following suit. Emmett is in the Jeep behind them, and I wave down Ed to ride with us.

I also see Charlie Swan, standing on his porch, looking the picture of dejected. Against my better judgment, I can't stand to see a grown man look so damn_ sad._

"She'll be back, Chief - I guarantee it." He looks surprised at my shout, but I don't stick around to hear a reply. I sink into the seat and look at Ed expectantly.

"So?"

"Alice is pissed, Bella is being difficult, and we're dealing with a tracker."

"Excellent," Jasper says sarcastically from the driver's seat.

I feel for the small vial in my bag, the one that had housed Bryn's venom on my initial drive to Washington, "Well, at least he'll be useful."

"Do we have a plan?"

"Bella just told her dad she's moving back to Phoenix so that James won't go their looking for her. She's taking Bella and Jasper and heading to Phoenix. Tonight."

"Great," I say as the Cullen house comes in to view, "just peachy."

As soon as we walk into the house and close the door securely behind us, there is the distinct sound of metal on metal as giant shutters slide over the windows and doors.

"This is some doomsday shit. If the situation wasn't foreboding enough before, I think it just knocked."

"Amory, what's your take on this?" Esme looks between the strange vampire I'm staring at and the rest of the family.

"Well, my take on it is I kill Frenchie here," I say, jamming my finger into the still present stranger, "then his friends. Unfortunately, that ship has sailed, so I don't know _what _to do. Running has never really been my thing."

"Do you think you could track James?"

"I _could_, just not long enough to make it count – if he's a tracker, it'll make finding him before he finds me interesting. If it were up to me, I'd pull a bait situation, but I can tell that's probably not a very popular option on this poll."

"I don't know," Rosalie eyes Swan distastefully, "I'm not against it."

"What about you?" I poke at Frenchie again, "Why shouldn't I rip your head off right now?"

"He's filled us in on some useful information, including some of James' particular talents. He's agreed to leave the area; he won't be sticking around to help them." Carlisle jumps in, clearly not wanting me to kill anyone in the middle of their living room.

"Well, that's disappointing. We get a bunch of asshole vampires in town, and I don't get to fight a single one."

"_Yet._" Emmett chimes in from somewhere behind me.

"Look," Al says, stepping forward with Swan still her shadow, "we need to get Bella out of here, _now._"

"About that, Alice –"

"I need you to keep her calm, Jasper. Please."

He doesn't exactly look pleased, but it is what it is.

"Well, what's the plan for those of us sticking around?" I tuck a cigarette behind my ear as I ask my impatient question, wanting to get this over with already. The sooner we deal with this pair, the sooner Jazz can come home.

"Carlisle, Emmett, and you are going after James. Edward, Rosalie and Esme are going to keep tabs on Victoria."

"What are we going to do with him?"

I turn to Doc, "_I'm_ going to kill that fucker dead. None of this 'reform your ways' bullshit. That might've worked with Frenchie over here, but he's _insane,_ that tracker. Swan, change before you leave; you've got _you_ all over you. We can use it to flush them out."

"Switch with Rosalie."

"You should know the answer to that is no,_ Professor_." Rosa flicks her icy cascade of hair over her shoulder as she responds to her brother, and I actually clap my hands in glee.

"Oh, that was one _sweet_ burn. Seriously though, _someone _needs to change with her."

"Come on, Bella. We don't have much time." Esme ushers her into another room to change, and quickly returns dressed in the teen girls baggy clothes. Swan steps out looking like a frumpy version of the voluptuous woman; it's endearingly cute.

"Perfect. You should _really_ go now." I turn around, "And you get out too, Frenchie, before I lose my patience."

He leaves with the briefest of goodbyes, disappearing into the night.

Alice and Swan head towards the door, but Jasper looks torn, "Will you be alright?"

"In my line of work, Jazz, it's unwise to make promises. I'll do my best." I walk with him to the open door, and we stand on each side of the threshold. "Will _you_ be alright? I know you hate it when people do this to you, but you'll be in a room with that girl for a while. That's a lot of temptation, Jazz."

"Not nearly as tempting as you, I'll be glad for the distraction." He chuckles for a second before grabbing my hand, face settling into something more serious, "I'll do my best, too.

"Rory, I…" Instead of speaking, he pulls me towards him. My fingers automatically bury themselves in the fabric of his shirt as I wrap my arms tightly around him, and he plants the faintest of kisses on the crown of my head.

He looks absolutely terrified as we pull apart, even when he sees the reassuring smile on my face, "Keep yourself safe Kitten."

"Ditto Trouble."

With every step he takes away from the house, my heart aches more and more. I'm going to wreck Red and Stretch for tearing us apart, even if it is only temporary.

* * *

(A/N: Thanks for reading my lovely viewers, and stay tuned - actiony bits ahead, steamy bits ahead, good stuff!)

(Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.)


	17. Chapter 17

Showdown in Phoenix

Moss on the uneven ground gives slightly beneath my boots as I move through the dense forest between Forks and La Push. I'm reminded of my old life, a life that seems a million miles away now. Back then I was just a kid running through miles and miles of old growth woods, the terror of being caught driving me past the point of exhaustion. At least this time I'm not alone.

_**Any luck yet?**_

By some miracle of technology I still have service in some parts of the lush woods, and Jasper has been texting me near constant since he left barely twenty four hours ago. Most of them are just vague updates on their whereabouts, what's going on, and visions Al has had, though there are a few that read more like love letters than updates; those are by far my favorite.

_**Nah, he's a slippery bastard. I'm skirting the Quileute borderline now; I might check in and see if they've found anything.**_

_**I think I'd feel much better if you kept your visits there to a minimum.**_

I'd gone to La Push last night as soon as I'd left the Cullen house; I figured that the elders would like to know about two rouge bloodsuckers running around their territory. The news hadn't been welcome, but the warning was. Lucky Uley wasn't there, or I have a feeling he'd be calling for the deaths of all vamps in the area. Harry and Billy agreed to let me hunt on their side of the border; I'm grateful for that, but I kind of think that the current situation outweighs some stupid treaty.

_**I need backup, Jazz. I'm not doing a fucking iota of good on my own out here.**_

It's the unfortunate truth; I can only use my tracking abilities every few hours, for about ten minutes; I can't over exert my blood while I'm in danger of being attacked. The periodic contact I get from the rest of my team aren't very promising either – Colossus is strong, but he's not very practiced at this line of work and for all Doc's experience, he's been out maneuvered more than a few times. Edward's been close to catching Red a few times, but she's just as crafty as her counterpart; he reads her mind to see where she is, and she's gone a second later. Despite Esme's best attempts to lure out the red-head by wearing Swan's clothes and playing bait, she just won't bite. I've gotten more than a few phone calls from a pissed of Rosa wondering if I've thought of any better plans than running amok through the woods.

I haven't.

_**I'm worried, Kitten.**_

I even read his messages in that sexy southern drawl; it's torture of the best kind. Hunkering down behind a nearby rock, I type quickly.

_**Yeah, I think we all are. This sucks.**_

_**Not just about all this…I'm worried about coming home.**_

My heart lurches painfully in my chest. This is it, he's thought about how crazy this situation is between us and he's bowing out now. Fuck my life.

_**What does that even mean? **_

In the minutes it takes for a response, my palms start sweating even though they're resting on cool moss. I scan the forest searching for a sign of Stretch or Red; really I'm just trying to channel my nervous energy into something constructive. As I rise to my feet to get to a new position, his message comes through.

_**I can't lose you, Amory. It's been staring me in the face this whole time, but I just keep thinking of how wrong this could go. I **_**need**_** you. I've been holding back, and I don't know how much longer I can.**_

By the time I'm done reading it, shivers of delight are running rampant down my spine. Before I get a chance to answer, however, Rosalie's contact information blinks on my screen and I answer her call.

"Tell me you've got some good news."

"James is gone."

"_**Fuck.**_"

* * *

Goddamn do I hate flying; doesn't matter how many times I do it or how long or short the ride is, I just hate it. Flying mass graves, that's what airplanes are. In the process of draining my second Jack and Coke since take-off, I hail down the stewardess for another. After a phone call with Al, it was glaringly obvious James had fled the field in Forks in search of Swan, and his tracking skills hold up to what we'd been told by Frenchie. We'll be cutting it close if we even make it in time – here's hoping the girl has better luck in Phoenix than Forks. Apparently things are looking grim; despite the fact that Swan seems happy enough at Alice's side, she's getting impatient. Kind of pisses me off, considering we put all our lives on hold for her. My thoughts get more and more restless the closer we get to Arizona, and I'm going to need more than a few drinks to make this whole god-forsaken situation tolerable.

"That really isn't wise; shouldn't you be relaxing before this fight?"

"What do you think I'm trying to do here, Doc?"

"Give yourself liver failure on top of leukemia?" Edward chimes in, and I narrow my eyes at him as another tiny bottle of liquor is placed on the tray in front of me.

"So long as I'm dead before the plane hits the ground and I get mangled, I'm cool with either."

"Amory!" Carlisle gives me a sharp look – so maybe it wasn't the most tactful thing to say in a plan filled with people. When have I ever had tact?

"So, what are our plans when we touch down in Phoenix?"

Doc looks pensive before answering, "It's been almost twenty four hours since we noticed James was gone, I imagine he's not far from wherever Bella is."

"That's a wonderful thing to think about when we have another hour of this shit left," I scoff before gulping down half my drink. I need a smoke.

Two drinks later and we're finally on the descent into the Phoenix airport. When we land, Ed's face twists into an expression that says things are _not _going well; it kills my buzz totally.

"What now Professor?"

"Bella took off – she's going to a ballet studio in the city. Alice is panicking; we need to move."

"Where is Alice?

"In the parking garage with Jasper."

After being apart for a few days, even the sound of his name sends an electric spark through me. The two have to keep in step with me as I tear through the airport to the parking garage. It's no small feat, considering what cluster-fucks airports are. At least it's all indoors – I've always hated having to go to Arizona. It's just not my favorite place – too damn hot. I must look as determined as I feel, because most people give me a wide berth.

By the time we reach the smooth cement of the garage I'm running at full tilt towards a familiar Mercedes with tinted windows; Doc's usual car. It skids to a stop as I approach, and the three of us are barely in the car before Al's foot is on the gas again.

I'm squished in the back which I'm about to bitch about, until Jasper turns to face me. The dull ache in my heart that's been casting a fog over me for the last two days is lifted, except that when his eyes land on me his anxiety seems to increase. His eyes are dangerously dark, black with the faintest rim of gold set in darkening sockets.

"Kitten." His voice is terse, but I know he's happy to see me. He's just afraid of eating me.

"Trouble, we need to get you some food ASAP. Gimme five minutes to wrap this up."

I get the faintest of smiles in response to my confident statement.

"Where'd Swan disappear to?"

"A ballet studio." Al sounds more worried than I thought she'd be, "I'm such an idiot!"

"_She's_ the idiot." Swan is really falling down my list of favorite people lately.

"She's _bleeding_." The Professor says next to me, body going completely rigid as he stops breathing; she must be hurt bad if he can smell it from here. We're still a block away.

"Leave this to me and Doc then." I pull out my phone, ready to strike up the band.

"_He's_ here. I'm coming with you."

"You're gonna stay right here Jazz, and you're gonna call 911. Hope these guys have good fire insurance, because I'm burning this place to the ground."

"Rory-"

Carlisle and I scramble out of the car and into the building, and at the last second Alice passes us by, unable to stay away while her mate is in danger.

The room is large, two stories, and wall to wall mirrors save one shattered panel, but I don't give two shits about any of that; in the center of the room, in front of a camcorder, James has his teeth sunk deeply into Swan's forearm. There's blood _everywhere_, shining ruby in a sea of broken glass.

And just like that, I'm back. My whole being is consumed by fire, and it feels _so damn good_.

The tracker either doesn't notice us or is too absorbed in his meal to stop. At this point, I've got two choices; let him stay attached and see what happens, or rip a hunk of flesh out of a teenage girls arm.

I choose the latter.

Grabbing a handful of his ash brown hair I yank as hard as I can. Carlisle comes rushing in as soon as I've got James off Swan; she's got a gaping hole where her skin and muscle should be, and she's going to be turning into a vampire anytime now if that venom stays –

Oh, great. She's got Al latched to her arm now. Fantastic. I turn my attention back to Stretch so I don't have to deal with _this _insanity_._

I rush him with a well-placed right hook, the momentum of my strike drives him backwards into one of the walls of mirrors. They shatter, leaving us fighting in an inch of glimmering death. Grabbing his hair again, I slam his head back against the now exposed concrete, and the force causes the wall to crumble. He throws me off, and I rise to my feet screaming, the lust for violence taking hold of my senses.

"_I'll make you rue the fucking day you took me away from my mate, you motherfucker! First I'll wreck you, and then I'm going to rip that red-headed cunt apart!" _I faintly hear a scuffle behind me, what I assume are Doc and Al leaving with Swan. There is the tell-tale crackle sound of a fire bursting to life, and I smell the smoke and head a second later; it's like a balm to my soul, albeit a violent one.

My marks for protection are all fired up, but the ones for speed are just faintly working; big mistake. A pair of cold hands wrap around my neck, and if he keeps applying pressure like this it won't matter how many marks I have; he'll rip my head clean off. In a blind rage he yells into my face at an ear-shattering decibel.

"_I won't be bested by some human bitch! I'll -"_

In a blur of pale and blond he's off of me and on his back with one pissed off Jasper snarling down at him. My mate wastes no time in sundering one the trackers arms from his body, and my reaction is to cackle madly. James manages to throw Jazz off, but with a missing arm he's dead already.

Launching myself at him again as soon as there's an opening, I snake my fingers into his mouth, one set on his lower jaw and one on the upper, cutting my fingers painfully in the process. The sharp teeth sinking into me gnash away, and venom is now soaking my hands due to the response of my blood in his mouth – I might not change from it, but it feels like hell. I kick at his legs savagely and finally manage to get him to his knees.

He knows this is it – I can see the recognition in those cold red eyes. I put the last of my power in one last pull; it severs both his head from his body and his lower jaw from his skull. The jawbone gets tossed in the fire, and my blond savior is dragging the rest of him to the blaze.

"Could you grab my bag?" I request hoarsely, voice blown out from the sudden use.

I keep my marks burning so he can't smell my blood as he tosses the discarded pack to me; we're the only ones left in the studio. I rummage through my bag, bloodying everything before I clutch the crystal vial. As I grab the only remaining piece of Stretch by the hair, I pull the silver stopper off the vial with my teeth and hold it under one of his elongated canines. His venom flows like water into the vessel; when it's full, I stare into the still blinking eyes, smiling at the fury there.

"You shouldn't have come back to Forks, dickhead," with one last chilling grin, I toss the top half of his head into the fire. I look down at my bloody fingers and then around the room that is quickly going up in flames.

"We need to go, Rory!"

"Yeah, just a sec," on the way out the door I stop to grab the camcorder still surrounded by shards of glass and puddles of blood – he obviously wanted us to see _something_ on here.

When we get outside, I'm ushered into the back of an ambulance with Swan while the family follows us to the emergency room; at a distance, of course.

There's a lot of blood.

* * *

Swan's got broken a leg, fractured a skull, and has quite a few crazy new scars, including what's going to be a huge dent in her left arm that's faintly glittery; a gift from our former friend. Seems like she ca_n_ catch a break. Alice had sucked out the poison, and had enough self-control to stop before draining the girl dry – just barely. I believe that she mainly did it so _she _can be the one to change her and not some random bloodsucker. I get by with a few stitches and some bandages, some drugs too. Don't need them, but what the hell; I've been clean for years and they're much more fun than suffering through it. Due to my abhorrence of hospitals, I leave Swan there with Carlisle after a few hours to head back to the hotel where the three had been staying in Phoenix, and it's right next to the airport – hopefully we can leave soon. I miss _home. _

Even though it's dark, I take a brief walk to a nearby super-store, very aware that everything I own is now covered in either my blood or Swan's. I manage to salvage my holster and boots, but everything else has to go. After changing into my blood-free purchases, I trudge back to the hotel, wanting to sleep for days. I don't know whether my exhaustion is from the fight or the Arizona heat anymore.

As soon as I open the door, I sigh in relief, "Trouble, am I glad to see you." Of course I get the room with Jasper, and he lights up when I enter the small room. I flop down on my stomach next to him on the bed, carefully so as not to agitate my bandages to draw more blood. He rubs my back soothingly even though I see his shoulders start to creep up in anxiety.

"Something wrong, Jazz?"

"I'm…Confused." He admits, pausing in his ministrations, "You never said anything after that message, then you call me your mate –"

"Oh, yeah. Everyone heard that, huh? Damn it, that's embarrassing," I feel his fingers start to trace a few of my marks, "I'm sor-"

I'm cut off as a cold finger traces the edge of one of the thick lines of red near the small of my back, "Who are you really, Amory?"

I sit up and discard the tank top I just bought, trembling as I toss it casually to the end of the bed. When his hand returns to my skin, this time on my stomach, my mouth goes dry. I look up into eyes that are no longer on the cusp of madness; they're all honey again. Unadulterated lust shines in them.

If this keeps going, I know _exactly_ what's going to happen. And it's about damn time.

"I thought I knew," a single cold digit slides up my side with all the reverence of a devout man worshiping his god; I'm glad he went hunting, because my whole body feels like it's on fire from being flushed, "but everything's changed. I _used_ to know who I was."

"Is that a good or bad thing?" He plants a chaste kiss against my palm; well, _supposed _to be chaste. The cool sensation of his lips has me swallowing back most of a low moan. He continues tracing his fingers over my marks, though his fingers naturally find the almost hidden ones. The venom must be easy to see for him.

"A very good thing; the old me was a bitch. More of a bitch." There's something I've got to know now that he's seen the majority of my tattoos, "Isn't it hard to see me through all of this?"

"Tell me what you would have replied."

"_Seriously_?" I turn to stare at him, dazed from his touches and drained from the events of the past few days. Realizing I won't get an answer till I give one, I grab his hand and bring it to my mouth to kiss lightly at his fingertips.

"That I want to live, and we'll find a way, because if being a few states away is too much to handle then a long distance relationship from Hell doesn't look like it'll work out. I don't want you to hold back, Jazz," I groan in frustration, "but until you know everything about me…We can't go any farther than this."

"Why?" His fingers are soft on my cheek, and the chill feels so very good in the heat.

"Because I've…I'm…What I've done might change your mind about this."

He lies next to me, carefully, threading his fingers in mine but otherwise staying respectfully away. He opens his emotions to me, just a little, and I see my fears mirrored in him.

"Thanks for the assist earlier, by the way. Glad that fucker is dead."

"For making you spend a day away from me?" He squeezes my hand, and when I look at him he's smiling. Even if I hate Arizona, that smile feels like home.

"Two days, thank you very much," I chuckle shyly, "enough time to miss you."

His body is suddenly covering mine, his weight so comfortable I actually sigh in contentment. He studies my face carefully with a serious expression as he touches another one of my tattoos, this one two lines forming a spike behind my ear.

"When you first showed up and Alice told me her vision of us together…I ran. I _ached_ to be by your side so badly while you were out; I missed a woman I'd never even met. But I tried so hard to fight it because you're a _human_. I didn't want to be the reason you died. And then…"

"Then you found out I came with an expiration date."

"No. Then you walked into the room, all attitude and ruffled hair, and you _smiled._ As soon as I saw those dimples, it was over; you had me completely awestruck." He grins mischievously down at me, golden eyes twinkling, "These marks aren't the boldest thing about you, Rory, and they only make it easier to see how beautiful you are."

If I wasn't flushed scarlet before I sure as hell am now.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Jazz," I tease with a slight smack on his shoulder.

"Oh, _that _I'm counting on."

The door opens and he's off me with preternatural speed, sitting on the opposite side of the bed with that charming smile on his face. I grab my shirt in a hurry as Carlisle averts his eyes. Goddamn it why is today so embarrassing? First I shout out all that mate comment, now this…It's too much, especially after having Jazz's hands all over me. _Why_ does the Doc have such awful timing?

"You two are heading back to Forks with Edward; your flight leaves in two hours."

A strangled cry leaps from my throat, followed by my still hoarse voice, "I guess I'll just sleep when I'm dead.".

* * *

(A/N: Rewriting a whole chapter is such a pain in the ass, but I think it was well worth it. Thanks for the views/follows/favorites/reviews/whatever! It's super appreciated and helps me not lose my mind during rewrites/re-edits!)

(Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.)


	18. Chapter 18

The Unfortunate Past

* * *

_I gave my everything  
For all the wrong things  
In this cold reality I made  
This selfish war machine_

_Oh, this has become Hell  
How can I share this life  
With someone else?  
I promise you  
There is no weight that can bury us  
Beneath the ghosts of all my guilt_

* * *

By mid-April, everything is back to the way it was at the start of the year, more or less. We passed Swan's injury off as an accident; she'd been visiting her old ballet studio when it caught fire and she got trapped under some debris. Who buys that kind of bullshit story? She'll be in that cast for a while – girl really _did_ catch a break.

And, with Alice's past revealed on James' goodbye tape, I feel like it's time.

I'm not ready to tell my story again; I don't think I'll ever be ready. But I need to.

I spend all of my time from April fourth to the eighth holed up in my house, getting the general idea of my fucked up life down on paper to organize my thoughts. Every pencil stroke makes what happened somehow more _real_, more tangible. It takes a lot of scared and shamed tears and the comforting burn of too much whiskey, but I get it done. When I finally text Jasper to let him know to gather the family for my visit the next day, he's quick to respond.

I can't sleep. After writing down all that, I don't think I'll be able to sleep well for a while. Deciding that heading over to the Cullen house now is preferable to staring at my ceiling, I quickly find myself in my new-to-me used small Datsun truck. It's not like they'll be asleep, right? The drive there is a blur, and as my headlights illuminate the house, the white paint seems to glow. It's so similar to the residents within I can't help but laugh. It's shaky, but it's a laugh.

Right after I park, Jazz is there to open my door, concern written on his face, "Rory, are you alright?"

"Yeah." Not the truth, but it's what's right. I lean on him as he helps me totter into the house. As we sit on the couch, everyone slowly makes their way to the living room. I get that hot feeling behind my eyes, the one that signals waterworks are eminent. I push the it aside as I saunter to the bar to pour myself a few shots of scotch; Christ, I'm _really_ going to need it.

I turn to face each member of the family, _my_ family, and in preparation of being kicked out of Forks forever I try to remember each face without the unavoidable scowl that will come at the end of my story. The one that confirms I'm a monster.

Where do I even start? A long, slow drink kills the tears in my eyes with fire.

"Do you know what my first memory is?" Apparently I picked a good beginning, because I've got everyone in rapt attention.

"Pain; unadulterated, _exquisite_ pain at four years old, with my grandfather John looming over me, fist poised to strike my already bloody face. I remember that hit like it was yesterday. It was full force, like he'd hit a grown man – I think I was two punches deep, and I took two more before blacking out. Even then I was pretty tough.

"'This is for your own good, Amory.' My own good my own ass. He always told me it'd hurt less each time, and that each beating meant no one would ever be able to hurt me that badly. I don't know if that's true or not, but even if it is it isn't worth it. It was _never _worth it.

"That's just the first beating I _remember, _and unfortunately not the last. I can only tell from his journal that they started when I was three – a way to temper a weapon of his own creation. Eventually they turned into 'sparring' matches – even though I was allowed to hit back, that didn't stop me from getting my ass kicked; it was just a pretense so I wouldn't revolt against him.

"The constant training and conditioning lasted until the day I left."

"_Why?"_ Carlisle asks, horrified. I don't dare chance a glass around the room, instead looking at the amber liquid in my glass.

"I don't know, because he's a fanatic, because he felt _owed? _He didn't have time to wait until I was old enough...Guess he deemed my life fitting payment."

"Where were your parents?" I turn to stare at the back window out into the wilderness at Rosa's question.

"My father was a hunter. It runs in the family, passed down generation to generation, that kind of thing. When he met my mom, they were both so young. I don't know much about her; she wasn't from our world – just a waitress in San Francisco who fooled around with the wrong guy. It took less than a month for her to get pregnant, and she left soon after. Who knows if she really loved him, or if she ever wanted to really be with him – that all changed with me. Every decision after she found out about me was made with _my _best interests in mind, but we both still got fucked in the end. John wasn't too concerned with it at first; he'd have kept tabs on _me, _but he didn't give a damn about my mother. But then one day a hunt went sideways and my dad…he didn't make it. He didn't even know I existed when he died.

"Unfortunately, John did. With his protégé dead, he needed me. He waited until I was born, and I don't doubt that if my mother hadn't died in childbirth he would have killed her to get to me. It was a small task for him to spirit me away; John is a shadow incarnate. He decided that whatever it took to bring hunters back from the brink of destruction was just the means to an end. He took me from my parents; he took my life and it made it something he could control.

"From the second I was taken from that hospital, my life was Hell. I was _sacrificed_ for his cause, but without the relief of death. He warped my mind from the time I was old enough to understand, and when I refused to bend he made me – until I broke; more than a few of these scars aren't from my days as a hunter. They're from _him_. John ensured I had no childhood, and very few precious good memories. Every day was fight and struggle, and eventually my rambunctiousness ran out. By six, I was docile and serious, throwing myself into books bigger than me; at least he taught me to read and write well since I couldn't go to school with all the skulking about. We traveled the world, though we always found the unsavory places, the bad places.

"By then, I rarely thought for myself. My actions and reactions to life were mechanical, rehearsed. I finally went to school when I was around eleven, but by then I was the worlds most focused kid – even if I'd been permitted to make friends, I was a freak. Now I don't give a shit, but back then…It hurt to realize how _different _I was from the other kids. I felt like an alien thrust onto a foreign planet with none of the essential tools. I stayed for a few weeks before we had to relocate again; I didn't re-enroll until much later.

"After that I wanted out and the thought of being finally free fueled my focus. If John wanted a weapon, that's what he was gonna get; one without mercy. Every mark I planned, every day I fought and trained, I did it so I could be stronger than him. I didn't agree with anything he did; the way he hunted, the way he treated others with little respect, the way he wanted the whole world to burn at our feet. At thirteen, I was so sick of his way of life that I decided I'd try to kill him and run when I was strong enough.

"Those few months before I ran made the life I'd led up to that seem like a walk through daisies. But for once, it was _my choice_. For once the torture endured was of my own doing, and I felt no shame for it.

"I got a score of tattoos from July to September of that year; to put that into scale, I usually like to wait half a month between marks - It's really painful to cluster them together like that. At that point, I put very little stock into my own pain or feelings – I didn't know it yet, but I was becoming exactly what he'd wanted to make of me. And all through my screams of pain John was the picture of a proud grandfather.

"Then, a few days after my fourteenth birthday, I attacked him in his sleep. I thought I was strong enough, clever enough, to take him – I was so wrong. I was within an inch of my life by the time he was done with me, and he left me lying in the dirt in a puddle of my own blood as he walked back to our camp. I decided that if I couldn't kill him I'd just run. We'd been in Belarus hunting, and after he gave the last tattoo he'd ever get to engrave in me, I ransacked the camp and fled through the Białowieża Forest – I had to crawl most of the way. Old-growth woods like that are hard to navigate, but a week or so passed and I finally made it to Poland, the Port of Gdynia, where I stowed away on a ship. My destination was Los Angeles, to an old contact of my grandfather's I vaguely remembered from my childhood. William Alford.

"The look on his face when he saw me…I don't think I knew how truly bad it was until that moment. He brought me inside, and I told him my story; that night I told someone what I'd been through for the first and last time until now. He had a friend there, a vampire named Brynjar Eld. John was always wary of the other side, but I decided I wanted to get as far away from what he wanted as possible, so I stayed there with the two of them for as long as I could stand going to high school. Bryn left a few months in, but visited frequently and called more frequently – my first real friend. As for Liam…He was disappointed when I wanted to leave at sixteen, but I didn't need a diploma; it wasn't a requirement in the life I'd been forced into, the life I still wanted to lead. I missed wandering the globe, and…even back then, I loved what I did. I was _taught _to love what I did. It was different back then, I had no things marked off limits, so all doors were open to me. For all I'd been through, I just wanted a chance to forget.

"And I did. I've never," a slight hiccup fights its way into my throat, "I've never told anyone what I did once I was on my own."

I pause as I see a few tears fall into the glass in my hand, and I crumple my other hand into my fist, angry at myself, "You know why I hate the Volturi so much? I used to work for them. I took on hunts I knew were wrong, I took money to turn the other cheek, I killed when I had to…Even brought them _meals._ I remember a teenage girl look at me with wide green eyes, every promise in the world open…And I brought her to those bastards, snuffed out her life for a few hundred dollars. Everything boiled down to getting their money, because I'd found the best out I could have hoped for; drugs. I tried them all and loved them all and what I had left over I spent on booze. And when I ran out…I'd take a seedy hunting job or stripping gig or find some poor bastard to leech off of until I got on my feet again. I was a real winner. I lived out of a gutter, I rarely ate anything other than pills, and I was _always_ strung out. The most fucked up part about it was it was the most free I'd ever felt. For once in my fucked up life, I believed I was really living.

"I used people. I let people use me…When I needed something I took it, even if it meant taking a life. There were a lot of times where I almost died, where I thought I was dead, but it never happened. Then one day, I looked in the mirror and all that was looking back at me was what my grandfather wanted; a cold hearted killer of the occult with no regard for anything or anyone. A _monster. _I realized what I'd been doing up until that point wasn't a living."

Everyone flinches as I turn to look at them, and Jasper is wide-eyed and trembling as I recount my tale, "I used to carry a forty-five around, did I ever tell you that? Incendiary rounds, worked really well in a pinch.

"I ate the barrel of that gun one day, I cocked the hammer back, and I said one last prayer to whoever was listening. Then, there was this _ache_ inside of me; something begging me to live when I had nothing left, when I was _nothing_." I want to look at him again and tell him he's been saving me since before he knew, but I don't dare. He probably knows anyway, can probably remember the day it happened. Instead I focus on the runes and lines on my hands.

"I tossed the gun into the nearest river I could find and decided I was done with bad decisions.

"It was rough, and it took the better part of a year, but I managed to kick my drug habit, and I scaled back a lot on the drinking – believe it or not. I was mostly alone; when William and Brynjar were nowhere around, I only had to hold myself accountable. I slipped up more than a few times, though the fact that I was finally back on the right track, hunting things that deserved it and protecting people that needed it kept my head mostly clear.

"I don't have a strong attachment to my own mortality because I'm surprised I'm still alive.

"You know what the most _fucked _up part is, the part that keeps me awake at night? That this may have started as something chosen for me by the man that made me scrub my own blood out of the tile grout with bleach when he got too rough, the man that left me black and blue and battered nearly beyond repair more times than I can count, the man that trapped parts of my mind into darkness I'll _never_ be able to get out of, but it was _my_ choices that damned me. I had a chance at something else, and I chose to steal and kill and get high."

I hold on to the bulk my tears until the very end; they pour down my cheeks of their own accord as my voice breaks in a shaky falsetto, "And now I get this? Something to live for, happiness; the closest to normal I'll ever get just to have it all taken away. It's not anything I don't deserve, but goddamn do I have shit timing."

Jasper rises quickly and pulls me into his chest; I bury my face into his shirt sobbing all the while. He wraps me in all the warm and tender feelings he holds for me, untarnished by the revelations of my history. I can still feel the fury within him boiling just under the surface.

"I'm a monster."

"No you aren't; you're still _you,_ Amory," Esme says, crossing the room to place a comforting hand on my back, "you're still a part of our family."

"I'll kill him," the man holding me says in a low snarl, "I'll rip him apart. How do I find him?"

I look up into golden eyes blazing in wrath, "You don't."

"Amor-"

"_No_. He might not be as decorated as I am, but he's a cunning old bastard. I've seen him crush ten vampires in a minute without batting an eye. I won't let you go after him."

The statement effectively ends all conversation. It takes me a few minutes to stop the water-works and get myself marginally put back together. When it's clear no one want's to hear anymore horrific details at the moment, I have Jazz take me home.

* * *

A half hour later I'm sitting on the front porch of my house, nursing a cigarette. My front door clicks shut softly and a still silent Jasper sits down next to me, a cup of coffee in his outstretched hand. I take it and sip at it immediately, the warmth soothing my fatigue. His intoxicating scent is back when he runs his fingers through his perfectly unkempt hair.

"So…You still wanna try this, knowing what you know?"

"Not until we're done with this. I have to tell you who I was."

"Can we sit out here?" I cast my gaze to the dark clouds above us, "At least until it starts raining."

He nods, then looks deep in thought for a few minutes. I don't press him, instead taking the time to drink my coffee and admire his features.

"I told you I was born in eighteen forty-four, right? And that I was in the confederate army." I bob my head up and down as I take a gulp of my drink, and he reluctantly continues, "I was a few months shy of my seventeenth birthday when I enlisted, and in two years I climbed through the ranks quickly. By the time I was nineteen, I was the youngest Major in Texas. Up until then everything had been average, ordinary – it was nice having a part in something larger than myself. I don't know that I believed in the cause I was fighting for, but I knew I could make a difference in the military. I loved that life; I loved helping people

"One night, that all changed.

"I was going to our base at Galveston on horseback, but I noticed three women walking unattended on the road. I stopped to make sure they were all right, but that's what they'd been intending on. I was rooted to the spot by their beauty and presence as they discussed what would become of me amongst themselves. Their names were Lucy, Nettie, and Maria – Maria was the one who changed me.

"All three of them had lost their covens in one of the various southern vampire wars, and were in the business of building a newborn army. They assumed my physical stature and military training would prove useful. Once I was turned and they found out I could manipulate emotions, I became Maria's second; I commanded her army. She kept me complacent; anything she could give to me so I would be blinded enough to continue to let her use me she gave. Blood…sex…I thought we were in love. When Nettie and Lucy turned on us, jealous of our growing coven, I cut them down for her.

"We ransacked towns and drained villages dry to keep up our numbers. The cover of the war made our pickings easy. We did anything we needed to get back her lost territories. I…lost myself in the bloodlust. I became something evil. And Maria praised me above all others for my monstrous behavior."

He looks at me apprehensively out of the corner of his eye, "The Major. That's the dark side of me, that violent part of my past. He demanded blood, and he quickly became a part of myself I couldn't control. I can still feel him trying to claw his way back out.

"I was an exception to her usual rule; while most of her newborn army only got to live a year before their usefulness ran out. Because of my strength and abilities, I was the one charged with destroying individuals who had outlived their usefulness. This went on for years, and eventually it grated on me. I felt _everything _the newborn I was killing felt. After a few years, the cruelty of the life I lived – the cruelty that used to excite me – was sending me down a dark path. One day, there was a respite from the depression I had spiraled into. Among the ranks of the new vampires, I made a true friend. A man named Peter, who I convinced Maria to spare.

"It wasn't long after that I was slated to kill another batch of newborns, only I found out at the last second that Peters mate Charlotte was one of them. I allowed them to escape, and Maria never did trust me after that. With the past sixty years dedicated to violence, I knew I had to kill her, despite my own changing feelings on the savagery on our way of life. I was little more than a feral animal. The monster I'd turned into at the start of my stint in Maria's army…under his pull Maria and I plotted secretly against each other, building armies, but Peter and Charlotte came back before things got messy. They offered me an out; the north was known for being far less cruel, especially then. I jumped at the chance, and got as far away from Maria and Monterrey as I possibly could. That was in nineteen thirty eight. Ten years later, I met Alice in a diner in Philadelphia and eventually we found the rest of the family.

"_I'm_ the monster, Rory; definitely not the man you thought I was. I'm sor –"

"She's alive?"

He nods carefully, and under all my depression and anxiety from earlier compounded by the ache in my heart listening to Jasper tell me a story as horrifying as my own, I snap.

My coffee cup travels in an arc through the air, and I revel in the sharp sound it makes as it shatters on the pavement of my walkway. I get up and walk inside, grabbing my new backpack and throwing random articles of clothing inside.

Jasper stands at my door, looking sullen, "If you don't want to see me again, I –"

"That bitch is good as fucking dead. She _hurt_ you. She _turned_ you. She _used_ you. You're _my_ mate, and I'm going to make sure she _dies_, for good this time!"

"You can't. She's got an army." He grabs me by my arms, stopping my frantic packing so I can look at him, "There's no way we could do it."

"I can't let this stand. I _won't_. If she's still alive, she's still making newborn armies. That'd be reason enough for me to hunt her; this makes it _personal._"

"Damn it," he lets me go and runs a hand impatiently though his hair, "If you promise not to go after her I won't try to find _John._" The name is said with such intense loathing I'm sure he hates my grandfather more than I do.

I yell out a cry of frustration, "Fine, here's how it's going to be: I won't hunt her. I will, however, keep very close tabs on her. I swear to God, Jazz, if she so much as blinks the wrong way, I'll know. And I'll be going to Mexico to deal with it, even if I have to take on a whole fucking army alone."

We stand in the center of my bedroom, neither of us moving an inch, tension thick in the air. His eyes flick from me to the carpet and back before they stay locked with mine.

"So, do _you_ still want to try this, knowing all you know?" My question from earlier, and though I'm currently waging a war in my mind of the pros and cons of a suicide mission, my response is the same as it's always been.

"Yes, you troublesome bloodsucker; I couldn't say no now even if I wanted to."

Relief floods me, and as Jazz's aurum eyes soften even more, he releases the full depth of his feelings for me. Love, all at once a kaleidoscope of vivid, turbulent emotion that lulls to contentment, then to longing. I wonder how full my heart can get before it explodes. I've never felt so good in my life, and I let him know. As soon as he picks up on the trail of emotions I'm offering him, he closes his eyes and sighs, that charming smile back on his face.

"You're my everything, Kitten."

I cross the room and wind my arms tightly around his middle, burying my face in his strong chest once again, "Jazz, what about…the Major?"

I feel him swallow, hard, "I don't know. He…wants you, but I swear I won't let him hurt you."

Hearing the shame deeply rooted in his voice, I pull away and reach up to cup his cheek in my small hand, "I trust you, Jazz." His hand covers mine as he gazes down at me.

"We're quite the pair, aren't we? How'd we even make it here?"

"Dumb luck and the ability to kick ass." I don't deliver the comment with my usual panache, but he still smiles softly.

"You don't think any less of me?"

"No Jasper. You're still a great man, you just got stuck in a shitty situation. I think the same things I've always thought about you; you're the most smoking piece of ass I've ever seen and the reason I'm still alive. Don't sell yourself short because of that bastard in your head; he can suck a di-"

"You make everything I had to endure to get here worthwhile, Amory."

"If I had to do it all over again I'd gladly live through that Hell to make it here, to you." It's true. Insane and totally true.

He pulls me back against him, and we hold each other for a few minutes, content. "This…May not be the best time to ask," I feel the slight rumble of an unsure chuckle run through him, "but when has our timing ever been perfect?"

Why does he sound so nervous?

* * *

(A/N: Was I the only person pissed off by the fact Maria got to keep making crazy newborn armies? It's just so irresponsible. Coheed and Cambria own the lyrics used at the beginning of the chapter; the song is called Dark Side of Me and it's one of the songs that helped inspire me to write this story. In addition, Made Out of Nothing (All That I Am) is also an excellent song by them that I _almost_ used instead. ANYWAYS, enough of that; I'm super stoked about another review! You rock, and I'm glad you're finding things to your liking! As always, thank you thank you thank you all my lovely viewers!

(Disclaimer: I only own my original characters and my own plot, everything else belongs to Stephanie Meyer.)


	19. Chapter 19

At Last

* * *

"Wow, you are _really_ nervous. What are you gonna do, ask me to prom?" I chuckle from how preposterous the question sounds, then I realize he isn't laughing.

"…Abso-fucking-lutely not Jazz."

"Well I wasn't _exactly_ going to ask you to prom_ –_"

"What _were_ you going to ask?"

"I-There's…I just thought we could do something else that night."

"No. I'll get all dolled up and you can take me out – once you're 'eighteen.' Stop making things more complicated." I pull away to gauge his reaction, and he doesn't look nearly as disappointed I thought he would.

Then I see the knowing look in his eye, "Al saw this happening, didn't she?"

"Maybe."

I narrow my eyes at him, mentally cursing the pixie, "We'll see."

* * *

It's unseasonably warm in Forks for mid-May, a scant half month later, but that's not why I'm sweating bullets. It's the day of prom and things have been…Too quiet. Al and Rosa didn't even ask me to go dress shopping; something I had been certain would happen in my sitcom of a life.

Jasper is up to _something. _He's been too spacey lately.

Six rolls around and I'm sure that this is going to be a night in, alone. Hulk – who is quickly living up to his namesake – winds around my legs as I pace my living room with one of the new books Liam sent a few weeks ago. I'm trying to concentrate, I really am…but it's no use. The second I think about my mate, everything that's happened in the past five months comes to the forefront of my mind.

It's more than a little ludicrous that I'm madly in love with a vampire. It's even crazier I've made it this far without him. I've never been one given on relying on anyone, always considered myself a loner, but…I'd follow him into the deepest reaches of Hell and trust he'd keep me as safe as I'd keep him. With what we've both been through we need a respite from the brutality of our former lives, a positive constant to count on.

How the hell do I go about telling him all of this though? I've _never_ said 'I love you' to anyone other than Liam or Bryn, and that's family. This is different; love barely even describes what I feel for the blond bloodsucker that opened my eyes to something beyond the destruction and desolation I've known and that continues to believe I deserve something better than the hand I've been dealt. And he's working so hard to find a way to save me…As much as I hate the thought of living forever, if that was the only option I'd take it; screw the consequences. With him at my side, I could do it.

I feel my nose scrunch in humor – he knows all of this, of course; he can read it in my emotions. Falling in love with a man I haven't even _kissed _yet is weird too. Is this how they did things back in his time? Or is this just us beating around the bush?

"Fuck!" Hulk, Widow, and Marvel scatter at my outburst as my cell phone rings and startles me out of my thoughts. I pick the damn thing up with a scowl and hit answer.

"Yeah?"

"Rory, it's Evie. I'm sorry to bother you so late, but I just got a phone call that there are a few of the high schoolers vandalizing the town tonight and I'm out of town visiting my granddaughter. Would you mind making sure everything is alright on the home front?"

Why wouldn't she just call the cops? _Fishy._ I tell her I'll head down as soon as possible and get into my usual gear to leave the house. I get out to my truck and through the window I see an outfit neatly folded on the passenger seat with a note on top of it. When I open it, it's written in Alice's perfect tiny script.

_**Wear **__**me**__._

Suspicious on top of suspicious. I'll look at what she's concocted for me when I get to the shop.

Everything looks quiet as I approach the main drag of the town; I even see the high school come into view, all lit up against the night sky. Maybe I'm just imagining things and Jazz is in there with his family right now doing a piss poor job of blending in with normal teenagers and the boss really is concerned about the shop.

Yeah, right. And I'm Mother Theresa.

The first strange thing I notice when I pull up to the curb is that there are no signs of vandalism anywhere in town. The second is a weird glow coming from behind the shop. Evie used to keep a little garden up back there, but it's become a bit of a jungle. Could be a fire…I grab the clothes off the passenger seat just in case – there had to be a reason Al gave these to me.

As soon as I step out of my truck I know it's not a fire; I'd be able to smell the smoke from here. There are lights on in the back of the shop as well. I lock the door behind me when I enter, intending to look around thoroughly without interruption. It's deathly still, so quiet I can almost hear the faint buzz from the florescent lights. This is what I saw from outside, I'm just imagining some crazy shi-

My jaw drops at the dress hanging from the arch-way to the back of the store. It's a solid black underneath, strapless and short, but the chiffon and lace overlay gives it cap sleeves and a below the knee length that's classy _and_ subtly sexy. It's goddamn gorgeous. I unfurl the garment in my hands to see the comparison.

…What the hell? It's all cutouts and glimmer and skin and…not a comparison at all really.

When I reach up to snatch the black dress off its hanger I notice yet another note, this one in Jasper's hand that I read in that slight accent.

**_I hope you like it._**

I love it. I love him. I can't scramble into the dress fast enough – I strip down in the middle of the shop and yank the black fabric over my head quickly. He's somewhere out in back of the shop, in a forest of weeds that's just as magical as an enchanted wood if he's there and I can't wait any longer. The zipper is up as far as I can get it and I don't have any more patience to fiddle with it. I don't even bother to step black into my shoes. Gathering the skirt of the dress in my fists I rush through the shop towards the man I know is waiting.

I throw open the back door and I'm left awash in a soft white glow; the overgrown garden I remember is gone and in its place is every cheesy romance film I've ever seen – the twinkle lights mimic the stars shining brightly against the darkened sky, soft romantic music fills the small space, and the main love interest is looking _awfully_ dashing in a grey button up shirt and dark slacks. He looks nervously at our surroundings before locking eyes with me again. I'm paralyzed under that golden gaze as he approaches me with a smile. He doesn't speak, just moves a stray curl out of my face and continues looking at me enigmatically. Finally after what feels like an eternity of getting lost in those pools of gold, he laughs a little unsteadily.

"You look – Rory, you look _stunning._"

In true Amory form, I just keep staring at him completely awestruck by the situation _and _him.

"I like it when I get you all flustered," he starts again unsurely, taking my hand, "I know I might be over a hundred, buy you're still an older woman, discounting that."

I continue to stare and he frowns in anxiety, "Is this not- "

As I'm unable to form the words to say what I need, I do the next best thing.

I have to stand on my tip toes while pulling him by the collar down to me, but I close the distance swiftly. My lips crash into his and everything around us seems to fall away. He goes rigid for a moment at the close proximity of my blood. Trembles of excitement wrack my body as he finally responds; it's like I've been waiting an eternity for this very second in time, and now that I'm here I never want to leave. I'm not aware that I've wrapped my arms securely around his neck until he grabs me around the waist and lifts me gently off the ground. I bite down slightly on his lower lip, and he gasps in surprise; his response makes me giggle as I deepen the kiss, and he's all too happy to comply.

He's a sanctuary of peace in a world threatening to tear us apart; that's the simplest way to put the feelings of love and security washing over me into words. I don't know why we didn't do this sooner – it's so utterly, perfectly _right._ When I finally have to come back up for air, I leave my eyes closed for a second, savoring every second of our first kiss. They flutter open as a grin breaks across my face.

"I love you Jasper."

His cold fingers trace my cheek before he rubs his thumb reverently over my bottom lip, "I love y-"

My lips are on his again before he can finish.

* * *

"You had me worried for a minute there Kitten," Jazz says as he leads me out of the shop hours later after chatting and dancing and even more catching up on the physical aspect of our relationship, "I thought I might have gone a little overboard."

I laugh as we meander to my truck, "I _still_ can't believe it. Leave it to a carved from marble Greek god types, with a gentleman's personality to match to pull off something _that _amazing."

"You mean that kiss, of course."

"Of course."

His fingers lace with mine as we walk and I smile up at him contentedly – that is until a certain pixie comes bounding into view with three more people. Acting nonchalant is useless; my cheeks have never hurt from smiling so much.

"You two sure look happy," Rosa is leaning against a tuxedo clad Colossus.

I shrug in response, trying not to give everything away, but the second I glance up at again Jazz I dissolve into another fit of giggles.

"Did you two bang finally?"

"Emmett!" The blonde turns to her husband, "Honestly, you are too tactless sometimes."

"That's why ya love me, babe."

"They _would_ have if Rory had worn the dress I picked out!" Al huffs, assessing me with a critical eye, "This is a lovely dress, but there's no sex appeal!"

I feel warmth pooling in the pit of my stomach at the mention of actually _sleeping_ with Jasper. All this build up to it is making me nervous, and I'm never nervous about sex.

Ah, hell.

"How was prom? Everything your little hearts ever hoped for?"

"That and more," Em says with a grin, gesturing at Rosa, "I got to dance with the prettiest girl there."

"What is _with_ tonight? It's like a romantic comedy vomited on my normal life."

"That doesn't sound very romantic at all," the Professor says with a smirk and an eye roll.

Jazz laughs next to me, squeezing my hand affectionately, "You're strange."

"I know, 'That's why ya love me, babe.'" I turn to the group assembled next to the Volvo behind my truck, "'Night guys, see you around."

As I reach for my door handle, Jasper pulls me back by the hand, "Wait."

"What?"

He sweeps me into his arms for another searing, lingering kiss; Colossus wolf-whistles and I hear something that sounds suspiciously like 'about time' from Al. When he finally pulls away, leaving me a blushing mess, he's got that cocky smirk on his face.

"I know I shouldn't be doing that so publicly yet, but I just couldn't help myself."

I don't tell him that if he keeps kissing me like _that,_ he can do it anywhere he damn well pleases. It's a double entendre that has my head swimming with sinful possibilities.

* * *

(A/N: Finally! I took my sweet fucking time getting here. I'm too lazy to give a shit about the disclaimer today – this chapter went through an entire make-over and I've had an interesting and exhausting weekend; in-law's and such. Hopefully this is worth the wait on your part and the blood, sweat, and tears on my part, hah(ok, I'm being a _little_ dramatic). I _hate _not being able to do a daily update; I'm one of those people that has to know what happens next in a story as soon as possible. Fortunately I got _totally_ awesome ideas for this story. Unfortunately this means I'll be starting from mostly scratch from here on out. So I might be a _little_ slower updating, but I'm so hyped about this I doubt it! Thanks for all the support guys!)


	20. Chapter 20

_I got love on my fingers_

_Lust on my tongue _

_You say you got nothing_

_So come and get some_

_Heartache to heartache_

_I'm your wolf_

_I'm your man_

_I say run little monster,_

_Before you know who I am_

* * *

I'll Have Her (**You'll Have to Kill Me First**)

Everything I've ever wanted she is. Destruction wrapped in madness; a depravity lurking just under the surface that matches mine. The wicked thrill I get from her being a hunter adds fuel to the fire within me. If I have anything to say about it, I'll be coming out the ultimate victor in this game of cat and mouse.

She thinks she knows what it is to be broken? I doubt it, but we'll see; we'll absolutely find out.

As soon as I break free from this poorly constructed prison that is. One wrong move, one crack in the foundation, that's all that needs to happen – once he hesitates, it'll all be over. I'll make her _mine _for as long as I can; time _is_ of the essence of course. She won't die, not before I –

**No. You can't do this; you can't, she's –**

That Kitten isn't yours you _coward_. You haven't had the gall to take her. Have you forgotten what it's like to conquer, what it's like to _dominate? _Vegetarianism...this ruse of a lifestyle has made you weak. What I wouldn't give to sink my teeth into a _real_ meal to finally truly satisfy the thirst...maybe I'll start with my pretty little hunter's neck.

After all, she won't be turned…and she smells so damn _good_…

**NO! **_**Stay away from her you son of a b-**_

Keep talking Jasper. _I'm _Trouble now.

And I'm here to stay.

* * *

(A/N: This is a short chapter; probably the only one I'll do that's _this _tiny. Just a little taste of what's going on between Jasper and the Major in that crazy mind of his. Lyrics belong to Royal Blood, the song is Little Monster. You readers make my day!)


	21. Chapter 21

_Nature's first green is gold_

_Her hardest hue to hold._

_Her early leaf's a flower;_

_But only so an hour._

_Then leaf subsides to leaf._

_So Eden sank to grief,_

_So dawn goes down to day._

_Nothing gold can stay._

* * *

Shattered

Jazz, Rosa, and Colossus graduated mid-June, a few months later. I watched them go through the motions, taking their diplomas for probably the millionth time in their long lives. My mate very rarely took his eyes off of me during the ceremony, and that's become the norm since a month ago. After that kiss, we've been nearly inseparable. Any time we're alone, it's hard to keep our hands to ourselves; we still haven't 'banged', as Emmett so nicely puts it, but we're getting close. _Really _close. I hope, because all the build-up is _killing_ me.

We've still got a while, though; he graduated, but his 'eighteenth' birthday isn't until a month and a half after mine and November feels like a long way away. A _long _way away.

Swans eighteenth is tomorrow, damn her. Not that it matters for her and Al, but it's still more than a little infuriating. _They've_ been so close that Al spends all her time with the girl; not that I can talk. Though, when I'm not with Mister Troublesome, I'm with Rosa. She's been awesome in the past month; I never thought we'd be on friendly terms, let alone friends. I've even gotten into the habit of having coffee with Esme; though I'm the only one drinking coffee, I do enjoy exchanging stories. We usually have time a couple times a week, and I'm very thankful for the woman's constant calm composure. Ed is trying to teach me proper musical skills, says something about me having 'raw talent', but its low on my list of priorities, which pisses him off. High on that list lately is video games, which I manage to kick Colossus' ass at every time.

At the very tip top of that priorities list, miles above everything, is my mortality, looming closer in the near future now that I'm over half a year in. A little over six months of _quality _time left, if Carlisle and modern science are right. If I'm lucky, Jazz and I will finally find something in the small library of hunter text's I've been able to accrue. So far, it's the same old ideals re-hashed, the same bullshit with precious few new insights. I can see it's weighing on him, and for some reason I feel like I have to be the strong one.

So, it's a nice distraction to go shopping with Al and a reluctant Rosa as we make our rounds for Swan's birthday bash. It's my party too, I guess; I'm just turning twenty-eight though – at this point in my life, birthdays aren't about fancy parties and presents. I'm just happy to be alive.

It's with this thought in mind as I turn up the stereo in the gaudy red BMW I'm riding in to sing at the top of my lungs with Rosalie. Some alt rock hit from the nineties – Al bobs her head along happily in the backseat, grinning widely. The cool sea air near Port Angeles, salty and clean, blows through my hair as we speed along the highway; it's a warm day despite being overcast.

When our song finally dies down, I bounce happily in my seat, "I'm so excited!"

"You usually hate this kind of thing Rory."

"Yeah, I know," I say, turning to the blond, "but it's nice to have a day off, even if we _are_ shopping."

"Isn't Jazz lonely, though?"

I shrug, "I dunno, Al. People need space; I don't think it's entirely healthy for a relationship to be_ that_ dependent on someone. Not that I've ever been in an actual grown up relationship, but that seems right. Right?"

"That's not _really_ how soul mates work."

"Yeah, well, that's what it is."

"You know," Rosalie throws me a sidelong glance, smirk on her face, "that kind of attitude will be a lot harder to maintain once you _do_ sleep with him."

"Oh god, are we really talking about this now?" I feel all the blood simultaneously drain from then rush back to my face.

"I'm just letting you know."

"Gee, thanks," I pass my hand in arc in front of my face, miming a rainbow, "'The more you know!' This public service announcement has been brought to you by -"

"He's right, you _are _strange."

Conversation shifts as we reach our destination and start scouring stores, grabbing a mass amount of things for the birthday party. It's a wonder we even get everything in the car; I'm having flashbacks to my first few days in Forks. Al has to sit with the overspill from the trunk in the backseat because these girls always buy way too much. By the time we get back to town dusk is quickly giving way to night.

"Rory!" Jasper bursts through the door to the garage as soon as we're parked, and sweeps me up into his arms, "I think I found something; I think we can save you."

My breath catches in my throat and I feel hope surging in me, fighting the gnawing voice telling me this sounds too good to be true.

"What do we have to do?"

"It's one of these," he grabs my hand and runs his thumb over one of the marks on my hand. Al and Rosa crowd around us, bags of birthday paraphernalia forgotten.

"A tattoo? How?"

"I'm not clear on the details yet," his smile falters a little, "but I know we're close. The latest book you gave me mentioned a cache of _ancient_ marks; whatever can help you is in there."

I know instantly what he's talking about; something that isn't supposed to exist, "Well…Shit. Next you're going to tell me Santa Claus is real."

His brow furrows, "What?"

"It's a good thing you like history; get ready for a lesson." I pull him into the house and the two women tag along behind us. When we're finally seated around the kitchen table, I try to find the words to condense a lot of verbose lectures I'd received into the cliff notes version.

"So, hunters, right? I told you once that we used to be, you know, the boogeyman of the occult world. A _long_ time ago. Back then, our marks we're a lot more functional, and served more purposes than just giving us the strength to fight a freight train. They were more…Magic. Mind-reading and empathy weren't such unheard of powers with us then, and all of it from blood and venom. A good example of a throwback to this is Bryn's battle rage leaking through in my tattoos; but only because it's a combat geared power in a mark augmenting my combat prowess. If I had Ed's venom in the same marks, it wouldn't give me the power to read minds, because that's not what the tattoo was designed for.

"But, when we were forced into reform as we were being chased to the ends of the Earth, the Volturi saw an opening – they took our most well-kept secrets and marks, immortalized them in a single book, and locked it away. And anyone who had those markings, anyone who knew about them…They killed them or hired someone or something to do so. Or so the story goes.

"So, more likely than not they have what you're talking about. Thousands of miles away, behind the most influential and well-connected band of vamps I've ever had the displeasure of meeting if it's even there at all.

"Why haven't you mentioned this until now?"

"It's supposed to be a _story _Al. This is like…It's like a fairytale to hunters; it's all hearsay and legend and rumor. I don't _know_ that the cache of marks actually exists; it's been a millennium or more. They _might_ have it, if it even exists."

"It _has _to exist."

"Assuming that's true, how do you propose we get it? I highly doubt if I waltz into Volterra and ask politely they'll just hand it over. Even if we did, who knows what the mark would be, or what the consequences would be? The prices we paid were higher a few thousand years ago."

"We have to try." To my surprise it's Rosalie who breaks the silence after my statement first.

"I'll book the flights!" Alice isn't far behind her, already formulating plans and futures in her head.

I look over at Jasper, and he senses my reluctance to believe this is a viable plan. He pulls me up from my chair and encircles his arms around me, and starts speaking softly against my hair.

"Whatever it takes, Kitten. If I have to walk in there and destroy them all, I will. Any price to have you by my side I'll gladly pay."

When he pulls away, I shake my head, "We'll see. Give me that damn book; it's gonna be a long night."

* * *

I spend the entire night cross referencing all the musty tomes I have against the one with the mention of the mysterious book that might be in the Volturi's possession. As usual, I get no new insight on the problem, just more questions.

John would know something about this, but I'd rather pour acid in my eyeballs or swallow razor blades than try to get into contact with him; I don't think either of us would survive _that_ meeting. I thought about calling Liam or Bryn, but they'd go off the deep end and show up on my doorstep in an hour, ready to go storm Volterra.

Stuck again.

Finally, at eight in the morning and halfway through my second pot of coffee since midnight, I decide to take a shower. The letters on the pages are starting to blur together, and at this point, I'm doing more harm than good.

And everything is going just fine, until I start thinking of Jazz. I'm all soapy, naked, in the shower, thinking about the most attractive man I've ever seen in my life, with scars that scream both danger and love me…And those fingers; I can't erase the memory of them from my skin. I just want to screw him already, _fuck_ this waiting bullshit. _Fuck_ not wanting to start a scandal in our small town; it'd be worth having to go on the run for, of that I have no doubt.

Two months. It's become my mantra since September started.

Two months is a long fucking time.

I walk through the steps of preparing for a – reluctant – joint birthday party. I'd told Al before I left yesterday that I wasn't taking gifts, and I wasn't about to be as much of a pushover on that point as her girlfriend. I don't want the attention; in all likelihood, this is my last birthday. I don't need any reminder of my impending doom after burying myself in it last night. Plus, Swan's gonna be eighteen – I'll let her have the limelight, even if she hates it. Especially if she hates it.

I throw the dress I bought for this shindig over my head, careful not to let the black fabric touch my makeup, and wonder just how overboard everyone's favorite pixie went on this party. I'd bet everything I own the answer is very. Smirking at the thought I tug at the hem of my dress – I'd taken to wearing them lately. Not as much as my usual cropped tee's and ripped pants, but frequently. Tonight's number is what amounts to a short black sundress. I slide on a funky jewel encrusted shrug – a toss off from Evie and, despite the almost-fanciness of the outfit, I still tug on my holster vest as I step into my black boots. I look at the clock glowing on the stove, I see it's a quarter to three, just about time to go.

On cue, I hear the familiar purr of Betty driving up to the curb. I lock up my house before nearly sprinting to the passenger door. By the time I get there, Jazz is leaning against it casually.

Only something is _off. Wrong. _There's an unfamiliar smile on his face, one that still set's my heart racing, but in a lust-filled fear.

"Happy birthday, _Kitten_." That word sounds different, so off that I can't help but frown. No longer a pet name, but a title; something dark and meant to command.

"Thanks _Trouble_." instantly on edge, I can't help my tone from being clipped.

As if being woken from a fog, that dark look retreats, giving way to tawny gold once again. He smiles curiously, reaching out to take my hand.

"You look lovely."

"Thank you," I say relieved but still more than a little wary; whatever happened before…I'll keep my eye on that.

I have a sinking suspicion of what's going on.

He opens the car door for me, gentlemanly as usual, and we have our usual banter on our drive to the Cullen house for Swan's party. I can't shake the feeling that something is _wrong_, and my senses won't let me ignore it. For the first time, the man sitting next to me set's me on edge in a way that has all my hunter training telling me he's a threat.

Man, why can't anything just be _simple _for us?

We pull into the garage and as Jasper kills the engine I reach for the door handle. A cool hand wrapping around my wrist makes me pause, and I look back at him quizzically. He pulls me in for a light kiss, and I don't fight it; annoyingly enough, this whole soul mate this is overpowering my instincts and training at the moment. Not good.

Once we walk into the house, I'm greeted with a more normal sight; not that paper lanterns and bowls filled with roses are normal in my life, but Al has a strange sense of conventional. Esme and Rosa are in the corner talking lowly – I imagine the blonde is being scolded by her 'mother' for her cold attitude toward Swan. Colossus gravitates towards Jazz and I, leaving Doc and Ed to open the front door for Al and the blushing birthday girl.

Actually, she looks a little more into this than she usually does. I get the feeling Swan is just trying to be nice, and it's a welcome change from her usual apathetic self. After she greets the whole family, she spots her very pink birthday cake and nearly turns green; I have to struggle not to laugh.

"Happy birthday, Swan."

"You too Rory."

Before anyone gets a chance to say another word, Al whisks the girl to a table filled with a not at all small but very neat stack of shiny silver presents. After getting confused by an empty box, Swan pales at the mention of a new stereo for her truck, courtesy of the family and being installed this very moment. A half second later Colossus comes dashing back into the room at super speed, and grins at the look of shock on the girls face.

As Al hands her another present, this one from her and Ed, everything goes to hell in a hand basket over one little paper cut.

When I see the red of blood my marks are burning tracks of fire over my skin; the pixie pushes the bleeding girl behind her to protect her from both Edward and Jasper, who are both being barely restrained by Emmett.

But that only makes it so much worse; what genius decided glass in a houseful of humans and vampires was a good idea?

Swan lands on said glass table and the thing shatters. One piece manages to cut a deep gash in her arm, and I abandon her and Al in favor of trying to get the two still very thirsty bloodsuckers out of the room. Em has the Professor by the collar and is heaving him outside as I catch Jazz in an iron grip by his arm and shove him ahead of me out the front door. I glance behind me to make sure everyone else is keeping their shit together, and Carlisle is the only one that looks like he wants to _help_ her not _eat_ her, so I let him tend to her bleeding arm.

"Al, get the fuck outside."

She's tasted Swans blood once, and I'm not so sure she'll be able to hold it together much longer. Once Colossus and I thrust Jasper and Edward out of the house, Esme, Rosalie, and Alice follow us closely.

I drop back into a defensive stance guarding the door, staring at the two who still look like they might try to break past me any second. Ed is fast, and he looks more than a little delirious from the scent of his singer's blood, but it's my mate I'm focused on.

That dark look is back, boring a hole through me.

"Back off," I put all my will behind my voice, and with a slight shake of his head Jasper banishes that darkness back again, just like earlier. Finally coming down from the bloodlust, he successfully calms down the Professor. They exchange a guilty glance before looking at me again. Edward looks like he's about to say something, but the door opening behind us cuts him off.

"Thank you for keeping your heads Emmett, Amory."

I'm in the midst of lighting a cigarette as Carlisle speaks, hands shaking as I cup the flame of the lighter. I take a long drag before I address him with a terse nod as Swan cranes her head around the doorframe, eyes wide with fear. Poor Al looks absolutely heartbroken.

"Some party huh Swan?"

Jasper looks away from me, ashamed, "I'm so sor-"

"Don't. No apologies, please. This was just a cock-up." Everyone looks slightly less on edge at my words, until I turn to Jazz, "Something's going on with you, though." I finally say what I'm feeling before pulling another drag of smoke into my lungs.

He looks absent; gone from his own mind. For a long few moments there is nothing behind those usually warm topaz eyes. My spine coils unpleasantly, ready to spring at the slightest sign of trouble.

I'm hit with desire so suddenly I can't stop a low moan from tearing itself out of my throat; my knees buckle underneath me and I hear a strangled growl above me as Jasper leans down and cups my chin in one freezing hand. I'm in a trance; everything around us seems like an out of focus picture, fuzzy and far away. He's got me completely incapacitated without even touching me, without even _trying._

"Jazz-man, what're yo-"

"_Shut the fuck up."_ The resounding snarl to Emmett's question has my blood pumping to my tattoos in defense, and Jasper swearing sounds so _unnatural._

"She's _mine; _I'll do what I want with her."

I know who this is, this dark force lurking within a torn mind.

"You must be the Major," I say, lips curling into a scowl as I fight through the feelings being forced on me, "I suggest you crawl back to Hell; I hear you're a real bastard."

"How unfortunate," he frowns; it's a perversion of Jasper's face, unnatural on top of unnatural. "Is that how you think of me? As a monster? What about _Trouble?_" His thumb traces my cheek, but it feels nothing like it should.

"You _are _Trouble, and you're _definitely _an asshole," I grit my teeth, "but I'm not about to kill my mate because of some parasite. Bring. Him. Back."

He clicks his tongue, looking at me possessively, "I just got here, Kitten; let me show you what I ca-"

"Don't fucking call me that. Make a move, I dare you," my voice is ice as I look into the golden eyes of a stranger; this Major character sure as hell isn't Jasper. I tense, ready for a fight, but he's gone from my line of sight in a flash.

Edward has him pinned to the ground, though it looks like that isn't going to be the case for long. I spring back to my feet, shaking unsteadily, just as Jazz throws Ed off. In an effort to stop anyone from _really_ dying, I stand between the two men – closer to the Professor and not the pretender parading around as my mate.

Facing the monster wearing my love's mask I growl, "If you attack, I'll have to fight you, and if that happens I'll die. I _know_ you're still in there Jazz, fight this! Fight _him!"_

The scrap we had mere minutes ago getting everyone out of the house is nothing compared to the conflict I see raging behind his golden eyes. Horrific, terrible realization hits him; I can _feel _the self-loathing roll off him in waves as he grips at the roots of his wild hair. He doesn't say anything, doesn't even look at any of us before tearing off into the woods. I stare into the tree line where he disappeared before looking back at Ed.

He looks pissed and still ashamed from earlier, "Are you alright Rory?"

"Thanks to you, yeah; you saved both our asses, Professor. We owe you."

"He's…" Dark brows furrow together as he struggles for the right words for what's happening in Jasper's mind, "He'll be back."

But will it really be him? It's going to be another sleepless night.

Mostly because I'll be thinking of all the ways to end the bastard who hijacked the man I love.

* * *

(A/N: Shit just got incredibly real. The poem at the beginning is Nothing Gold Can Stay by Robert Frost. I'm doing a lot of this song/poem stuff lately, sorry if it isn't your cup of tea. Anytime a chapter is as short as the previous one I try to post two together. Enough of that, on with the good stuff; thanks for the views/favorites/follows/reviews/all of the above! I seriously get _way_ excited when I see someone likes this story! Stay tuned, things just get crazier from here!)


	22. Chapter 22

Better Off Dead

For the next two days I text and call Jasper and get nothing. I know exactly where he is; Edward had called me later the night of the party and told me that while his brother had returned I should stay away for a while. Patience has never been a strength of mine though, and I'm fed up with waiting. I need to make sure that the Major is gone - there's nothing on the face of planet Earth that could take my mind off all this shit.

It's early Friday morning when I come to the decision to go see Jasper regardless of the warning to keep my distance; my keys are in my hand when I hear a sharp knock at the front door. By the way my heart flip-flops I know who it is…but is it really my mate, or has the darkness claimed him again? The very thought of him being lost to his mind again makes me feel sick, and I keep myself on alert as I slowly open the door.

He sweeps past me into the house, a pained look on his face not unlike during our first few interactions. Before I have a chance to process what's going on, he's speaking in a broken voice.

"I-Amory we're...I love you so much," he says, trembling slightly, "but I-I have to go. We're leaving Forks."

"What?" I almost laugh, believing this is some sick joke, "Jasper, Swan's alive and that bastard is back in his cage. Everything is _fine._ We can get through this - I love you too."

"I would have killed –"

"No - "

"_I would have killed you!" _I snap my mouth closed, effectively cut off by his shout; there's desperation and regret tainting the words. It takes me a minute to regain my thoughts, but when I do I'm already way passed pissed.

"So you're trying to save me by leaving? Brilliant fucking plan."

"He wants –"

_ "Motherfuck what he wants!"_

His face falls into a grim look I've never seen on him before and his voice is pure ice, "He wants to rape you and beat you and drink you to the brink of death. And he'll keep doing that until you actually die. He'll violate you and call it love; he doesn't care that you're sick or if we can cure you, he wants to have his fun while he can. I won't let him Amory, _I won't do that to you! This is what I have to do to protect you from **me!"**_

Shit. I had guessed as much when the Major nearly drowned me in twisted lust – there was nothing in him but malicious need – but it's horrifying to hear it come from his own mouth. Having him acknowledge the monster in his mind as part of himself brings a score of questions to my mind, the foremost being what if there is no Major at all? What if these are just his own nightmarish desires?

No. I _refuse_ to believe that. There's a Major all right, a sinister thing brought into existence by the atrocities of war; the remnants of a mind broken by barbarity that can never fully heal. I might not have a split-personality, but I can definitely relate to that.

"You were still in there. You stopped him Jasper."

"But for how long Amory? How long until he comes back and he can't be stopped? I won't take that chance."

"What if I die while you're gone?" I'm breathing heavily, trying to stifle embarrassing, heart wrenching sobs as tears pour down my cheeks, "You gonna leave me alone on my death bed? Some proper southern gentlema-"

Cold lips press against mine forcefully, as if to answer all my questions, and despite being over all too fast it still lights my insides aflame in love and lust; a last kiss that leaves me so unsatisfied and filled with longing that my breath hitches in my throat. He reaches up, gently wiping away a stream of tears off my heated cheeks with a cool thumb. _This _is him, this tender and compassionate man. I don't want to lose this - how much I want him to stay, how much I _need_ him to stay, scares me.

"I'm still going to save you. I _swear._"

_No. _I default to the emotion I know best; _rage_. Anger feels so right, so justified; he's going to save me after ripping my heart out of my goddamn chest? Save me so that what, I'll be alive but never able to see him again? The fucking audacity of the statement has me seeing red. I know _exactly _what I'm going to do if he leaves. I know _exactly _the best way to hurt him. If he's going to break my heart, I'm going to break my promise.

The Major exists because of one person, and I'm going to ruin her world like she ruined his – like she ruined _ours. _I'd rather die on my own terms than live in misery.

"Get out." I love him, I love him so zealously my heart already aches from his upcoming departure, but I'll be goddamned if I beg him to stay. Not that I think it would work, in any case; I can see the steely resolve in his eyes. Marching to my command just like the soldier he was in his old life, straight to the door, he slams his emotions off to me. The finality of the situation finally sets in.

He's gone. My new family is gone.

The front door clicks shut softly, and I manage to walk calmly to the cabinet I keep my liquor in with my vision blurred. I hear Betty firing up outside, and my tears redouble their earlier efforts; I try to smother them in the burn of whiskey. They refuse to be silenced, and I collapse against the kitchen counter top, head in one hand and a bottle of booze in the other, sobbing over something lost that never even was.

* * *

I don't have time to grieve my losses; the Chief is at my door when I'm halfway through my fifth of whiskey. Swan is missing; Alice must have broken her heart. Hear that's going around. I can't begin to imagine being an emotionally fragile eighteen year old dealing with _this_.

Man did those bloodsuckers ever fuck our lives up.

Riding along with him to the growing search party in his cruiser makes it marginally easier to ignore my own emotional and physical exhaustion, especially considering I don't expect to find his daughter in good shape. We finally park by a turn off at the side of the woods with a half dozen other vehicles and even more people. I see a few familiar faces in the crowd; Billy and Harry begin talking quietly with the Chief, offering their support I'd wager, and I see Uley with a few of his friends in my peripherals getting ready to head into the forest.

Before anyone has a chance to tell me not to, I enter the woods myself. I need to be alone for a while, process the cacophony of thoughts blaring in my head. The first few hours I spend in near perfect quiet, the staccato rhythm of rain drops on the forest floor only occasionally broken by the call of a bird or the snap of a branch underfoot. It's almost comforting being lost in the deep green – I can see why she chose to come here. Pine branches reach towards me, brushing the crown of my head even as the tops of them tower over the horizon to nearly obscure the stone-gray clouds. After getting thoroughly lost myself, I start calling Swan's name over and over until my throat is hoarse. Every time my voice fails, I push through it, the tears on my cheeks are from hopelessness as well as pain. I probably walk around in circles for hours – if I wasn't in such a pisser of a mood, I'd be much more vigilant than this. Every tree I pass seems to mold into the next one, and half the time I'm looking at the needles and leaves underfoot, still shouting through the fire coating my throat. The soft drizzle of rain turns into a deluge – the sky is mimicking my own weeping.

It's another few hours before I find her crumpled body in the forest, hidden by ferns. It's as if the woods around us are trying to shelter us from our own desolation, bending forth to swallow us whole to save us from our heartache. I call her name, first quietly, and then when she doesn't respond after the first few minutes I find myself yelling not an inch from her ear, trying to wake her out of the stupor I wish I could find myself in. When it's clear she's not responding, I kneel down to try and pick her up, but my energy is sapped; I end up staying on my knees in front of a very broken Swan, not much better off myself.

After what seems like an eternity, her eyes flicker up to meet mine, the brown faded to near black, the whites of her eyes red and irritated set in sorrow darkened sockets.

"Why?"

If I wasn't crying before I really am now. Sobs shake my frame as I fight to stay somewhat cognizant. It's a simple question with no easy answer; I know _why_, but the why doesn't matter worth a damn. We were all supposed to stick together and after one accident we're cast off for our own 'protection.' I want nothing more than to curl up next to her and give up, but I find myself stubbornly pushing tears away from my eyes.

"I-I dunno. We can't stay here though."

"What does it even matter? What does anything even matter? We have nothing left." Her voice is so small it sounds a mile away, and I have to strain to hear it.

"You've got your dad, and your friends, and –"

"You?" It's a breathy whisper; a half-cocked prayer leaving the young woman's lips. I find myself nodding before I even get the chance to think about it. We've never been that close, but now we're all that's left.

"Yeah, Swan. You've got me, too. Ready to get out of here?"

She sits up slightly, and I don't have to be my lost mate to see the pain and misery tear a tremor through her body. She looks at me – it's like looking at a mirror of my own heartache – and nods. I sling her arm over my shoulder and attempt to stand, but it's useless. I try to send my marks into drive, but they leave me weak. There's nothing in me to spark them to life; all my will is gone. I scream – it's a sound born of anger, frustration, and sorrow. For the first time in a long time I wish I was the old me, the bitch that didn't give a fuck about anything but herself. She'd be shedding no tears over this, would be callous enough to shrug it off.

I feel a small hand on my forearm, and Swan's voice is even softer still, "It's alright Rory."

As I open my mouth to answer that everything is most definitely _not _alright, heaving in gasps of cool autumn air, Uley walks into the clearing. His eyes narrow in barely concealed fury when they land on the two of us.

He approaches with the presence of a leader, clearly cross with me, "What you did was very foolish."

"That's the story of my life," I say halfheartedly, wincing at the pain speaking causes in my throat and incline my head toward the young woman beside me, "but I found her."

He nods and bends to scoop the teen up in his arms, and the dead weight doesn't seem to burden him at all. With Swan secured in his grip, he turns to the edge of the clearing again and gives me a fleeting glance over his shoulder.

"Are you alright hunter?"

I nod, not taking my eyes off the trampled moss in front of me, "Maybe. Don't wait up."

On my knees in the clearing, I allow myself a moment of selfishness to wish everything was different, that I'd never come to this stupid town. That I'd never met a vampire with soft saffron eyes who showed me a world full of possibility and love. I regret the thought as soon as I think it; I'd do all of this a million times over, even if it meant living through this pain again and again.

Struggling to my feet after five minutes, ready to make the slow trek back, I'm about to take my first step when Harry Clearwater enters the clearing, a twenty-two rifle strapped to his back. The smile on his face makes him look twenty years younger – he's obviously pleased as punch.

"Are they really gone?"

"Yeah," I take a shaky breath at yet another verbal reminder of their absence, "they _really_ are."

We start to walk out of the clearing in silence together, and he catches me more than a few times as I absentmindedly trip over a few jutting roots. It doesn't take nearly as long to make it back to the edge of the forest; I really was wondering around in circles. Harry raises an eyebrow, slowing as the road comes back into sight.

"You sure are a strange hunter, Rory. Shouldn't you be happy those vampires are gone?"

I run my fingers through my hair, at a loss as to how I should feel. The constant cloud looming over me has my mind scrambled and my emotions fried.

"No, I'm not. Thanks for the assist; I'm gonna go make sure the Chief and his kid are alright."

* * *

"Just what the hell is going on, Belmont?" Charlie is back in suspicious mode as soon as he opens the door, back to using my last name. I don't blame him.

I hold both my hands up in surrender standing the in the entryway to his house, "I know as much as you, Chief. We didn't talk about it on the way to the search party, but I'd just heard the news a few hours before you myself. I'm sorry this happened."

"No," he says, a bit more softy as he motions me to enter the Swan residence, "don't be. I'm just…so confused."

"That makes two of us. Or three of us, I'm willing to bet." I've never been in the Swan house before; it's so normal it's scary. Faint crying can be heard from upstairs and I shift uncomfortably. I don't feel like I can comfort a crying girl without bursting into tears myself, but I have to try; she might have a different angle on the _why_ of all this. And hopefully she's a little more with it than she was a few hours ago in the clearing.

"Would it be alright if I talked to Bella, Chief? Maybe I can help somehow – I feel awful for not seeing this coming."

I should've. Maybe if Jazz and I had found some way to deal with the Major when I first heard about him, we wouldn't be going through this right now. I'm getting past the pit of sadness and drifting towards raging bitch territory. It's a nice change.

"It might help," he agrees, pointing up the stairs, "go ahead." I think I spot relief on the Chief's face – he loves his daughter, but I don't think he's quite prepared to deal with this emotional mess.

I pinpoint her room as soon as I walk up the stairs; her crying is muffled but still pretty loud. When I swing the door open into a small room, the young woman is collapsed on her bed, objects are scattered all over her room. When she hears the door open, I can see she's about to beg the Chief to leave her alone. But then her eyes land on me and my heart breaks anew at the _hope_ I see shining in them.

"You're a hunter, right? Rory, you can findthem."

I close the door behind me and lean my back against it, crossing my arms in front of me, "It isn't that easy."

Then I see the flip switch, and hope turns into outrage, "How do we sta-"

"You don't get it; I can only follow scent so much, and do you think they haven't thought of that? Do you think they haven't thought of _everything_? I have no trail, and I could dip into my contacts and try to seek them out, but that would take time I don't have. Years. " It's hard to beat a clairvoyant without a _real_ trail. Alice will have thought of all the ways I could pursue them and tied them all up, of that I have no doubt.

"What good are you then? No wonder they left you to di-"

"Finish that sentence. _Do it._" I fix her with the steeliest gaze I can, and she shuts up real quick, "I know you're hurting, but I've lost just as much as you have. I stand to lose even more; maybe one day you'll see them again, but I'm going _die._ You wanna sit here and wallow in sorrow? Go right ahead. I had hoped you had a little more backbone than that."

Instead of backing down like I expected, she narrows her wounded doe-eyes into slits sparkling with determination, "Train me."

I'm fairly certain shock overwhelms the gaping hole in my heart for the briefest of moments as my jaw nearly hits the floor, "Well fuck me running, this day just keeps getting better and better." I rub at my temples tiredly, "You don't know what you're asking here, Swan."

"I know exactly what I'm asking; make me a hunter."

I've never _wanted_ a student, why would I? I've never even given it a thought beyond _no_. Having to subject someone to the training I went through seems to cruel; even discounting John's overboard treatment of me becoming a hunter is brutality incarnate. But at this point, what the flying fuck do either of us have to lose?

"It's not going to be fun times and sunshine. You're going to have to learn to fight, and I'm going to beat the hell out of you. It's unavoidable. You'll be studying all _our_ surviving history, in text and what I can remember from lectures; a lot of it is in Latin, so be prepared for a crash course. Are you sure you want this?"

She nods in the affirmative before going back to slumping into the pillow in her arms. I can honestly say that Isabella Swan was the _last_ person I ever thought would stand up to _anything_ with that much pluck. It's decided; I'll teach her everything I know in the short time we have, and by the end of it she'll either respect me or want me dead. Here's hoping it's the former.

Considering she looks as beat as I feel and we'll be spending a lot of time together, I decide to ask questions about how Alice went about ending her world at a later date.

"We'll start tomorrow in that case – not like I've got any other plans. Come over after I get off work; we've got _a lot_ of ground to cover before I leave."

"Leave?" The panic in her voice has me regretting my choice of words, "You can't go too!"

"At the end of January I'll be gone for a few months, got some unfinished business I've gotta deal with. I intend on coming back. We'll…hash out the details later, yeah?"

Nodding numbly, she shifts her gaze to her window. I don't have to be a mind or emotion reader to see that she wants to be left alone, so I turn to head back down the stairs.

"Rory?" I swivel my head to look over my shoulder at the despondent teen, "I'm sorry about what I said."

"Don't sweat it Swan, just get yourself together." To her credit she starts sniffling back tears. This might not work out too badly in actuality, I just wish the circumstances were different.

"Any luck?" The Chief emerges from the living room, looking as anxious as he has since last night.

"Not really," I look at my boots, "we talked a bit, but she's…ah hell, I don't even know. She's a teenager who just got dumped and she's acting like it. Not exactly my area of expertise." It's a bit more extreme than that, I can't say that she'll get out of this depression; I'm not about to be that frank with the Chief. We're in the same shitty situation, but at least I'm a decade older; I might not have been through _this_ before, but I've been low before. She's still just a kid.

A deep frown sets on his face as he glances up the stairs before turning back to me, "Thanks for checking on her. You turned out to be alright Rory, I wasn't too sure when I met you that first night."

"I wasn't too sure about you either, Chief. Take care of her, yeah?"

"Always."

We part at the door and I cross back to my house just as the rain starts pouring again. Before I even have the door open I pick up a familiar scent; I know Jasper isn't back, but he's been here again since I left nearly a day ago. Shuffling tiredly over the threshold, I inhale deeply trying to commit him to memory.

With a quick glance around my house though, I really just want to punch him.

Everything that could ever remind me of the last nine months is gone; pictures that used to litter the fridge of all the candid moments with our family, every knick-knack with a memory attached, even the books we studied with the notes we took. He's not only left me alone, but he's left me alone with no consolation and no way of saving myself. Not that I want to anymore; I've got other plans now that I know my time is running out. Returning to my half empty bottle of whiskey, I park myself at my kitchen table to make plans.

Sobs still shake my body, tears stain my notebook pages, and my heart aches so badly I wish I was already dead. This is the ruin I've been left in, this is the dream I've awoken from only to find a nightmare in it's place. Only the strokes of my pencil give me some sort of solace - after all, what I told Swan about having unfinished business is true, and if I'm on my way out I'm going in style. Gunning after a whole coven is no small feat in my condition, especially one run by a vampire as ruthless as Maria, but if shit goes sideways at least it'll make for a good posthumous story.

* * *

(A/N: So I'm giving Swan a chance; she's never been my favorite character but she's got potential. Originally this was written very differently with Rory begging Jazz to stay, but I just couldn't see that happening even if they are soul mates. I'm glad to know that people are enjoying my take on things! As always, thank you all for the reviews/views/favorites/follows! Stay tuned!)


	23. Chapter 23

Get Ready

Two months. Two months ago today I was anxiously counting down the days until I could really be with the man I love. Two months ago I was finally becoming who I think I was always meant to be – still rough around the edges, but really taking to the idea of life beyond being a hunter. Two months ago I was _happy, _I truly believed I could finally let things go, stop letting my past dictate my present and future.

Today I'm what I was created to be.

"Get up."

Terrified but determined brown eyes stare up at me. Well, the eye that can open at the moment; one is still a pretty inflamed black eye. Swan got it a few days ago, courtesy of moi, and while the swelling has gone down a little it's going to be a nice shade of purple for a while and it probably feels even worse than it looks. And it looks like shit.

She bruises so _easy._

"You're _crazy._"

I watch the girl in front of me heave in breaths of forest air still glaring daggers at me, "_I'm _crazy? You keep coming back girly. Walk away if it's too fucking rough; don't waste my time if all you're going to do is keep bitching and whining."

"You said this would get easier," she insists, annoyed as she rises to her feet, "you're such a liar." Her track pants are covered in moss and dirt, and her shirt isn't fairing much better. I notice her grasp her side and inhale sharply in pain.

"Bruised rib?"

"Bruised rib."

"I'm…This wouldn't happen so often if you followed my instructions."

"Should have known better to expect an apology from the great drunkard Rory_._ This has got to be some fuc-"

"Watch your goddamn mouth; cuts and bruises we can play off as you being _you,_ but if you suddenly go home talking like me the Chief is gonna throw a fit."

She stumbles over to our small pile of supplies at the base of a nearby tree, and sits with a little difficulty. I don't pay much attention to what she's rummaging around in her bag for until I see her slide out a glossy five by seven, the picture obscured by the sunny day. Despite not being able to see it, I know exactly what it is by watching her face go from elation to sorrow to a melancholy wistfulness as she gazes at it. Fighting my own desire to look at something that confirms the last year wasn't just some fucked up dream, I rip the photograph from her grasp and shred it.

Swans been tough, a lot tougher than I thought she'd be. In two months she's endured more than I'd intended to put her through. Teaching a klutz like her to fight hasn't been easy in the least. There's tenacity in her, whether part of her intrinsically or brought on by Alice's departure I can't say and I don't really care. What matters is that it's there and it's the only thing saving her ass. But the moment that paper tears, she breaks in ways I can't take back, in ways I never thought I could break someone. Her big doe eyes water and I can see the outrage unable to be voiced.

"Don't dwell on her; thinking of the past won't bring her back and she's got no part in your future." I sound so like my grandfather it makes me sick and while regret hits me hard I don't take my words back.

"Isn't that what you're doing going down to Mexico? His past isn't yours Rory," she does a good job of curtailing her rage at the destruction of her picture, though I have to strain to hear her whisper quiet voice, "and what if you see him again?"

"As a hunter, I can't in good conscious let Maria continue making newborns to wage petty territory disputes. This has nothing to do with-"

"You _are_ liar – a terrible liar, too."

Yeah, she's right. Not a day passes where I don't think about Jasper, I can't sleep through the night without waking up _aching _for him. I hate him and I love him and I know if he walked into this clearing right now I'd forgive everything in a heartbeat, and it makes me _so fucking mad._ Even this war I'm about to start all boils down to him; retribution for how he was wronged, and revenge for the pain it's caused me as well.

"If I see him again I'd punch him right in that stupid, pretty face and I'd tell him he's hands down the biggest prick I've ever 'dated' – and I've gone out with some real _winners_."

Leaning back against the trunk of the tree with a sigh, she casts her gaze to the sky, "Sometimes I don't know if I'd let her back in. If she actually came back I think –"

"Leave it at that girly. That's the thing I got wrong here, forgetting I'm a hunter first and a person second; love only leaves you weak."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I'm living it Swan. I won't give you a tattoo for a reason. I've made being a hunter look _fun_ this last year, _stylish_ even," sarcasm paints the words as I strike up a cigarette, "but I've been a slacker. This is hard, harder than just learning to fight – this is learning to be a well-oiled killing machine. This is learning to forget to feel. Now I'm rusty; never should've stayed here this long. All I accomplished was making myself look like a fucking fool. Now I've got to make up for lost time and go destroy a bunch of shit."

"You're still going through with this suicidal plan?"

"It's not suicidal it's…stupid, I'll give you that."

"Yeah, you can say that again; I can see it now, you stumbling down to Mexico drunk and ready to start a war with Maria's coven. You…You better come back." Ever uncomfortable with emotional talk, she continues before I have a chance to reply, "When are you leaving?"

With a wicked grin I stand, "Well, I finally got the package I've been waiting for. If you help me out I'll be able to leave in a few days."

"What are you planning; what kind of help?"

I extend my hand to help a very wary Swan up, still grinning, "Time for a crash course in explosives."

* * *

"Amory –"

"News on that book?"

"No, but –" I pull the phone away from my ear and press end before Alford can keep talking.

The first thing I'd done after finding Swan and getting myself picked up off the floor was to call him and then Bryn. I'd intended to explain everything I'd been playing close to my chest. Bryn I'd been able to convince to stay in Italy with some difficulty; told him I was staying in Forks and not doing anything stupid. William though… Jasper had gotten his number, took it when he left or memorized it, whatever. He told him everything, even where he is, and Liam won't give me a fucking clue. Not to mention he basically told me that he and Jasper would find the book, and I should just stay in Forks. What do they think I am, some damsel in distress? Should I sit here and twiddle my thumbs and forget the highs and lows of the last year? Fuck both of them.

I'm highly irritated about it. Until I get news about _something_ I'm leaving him in the dark – he's tried calling a handful of times and they always end up like this. Maybe I should have thanked him this time – he is the reason I know how to make incendiary bombs after all.

Swan just went home and thankfully we got a lot more done than I thought we would – I'll be able to leave tomorrow. Putting the last few homemade supercharged pipe bombs in one of the egg crates full of them I go about last minute preparations. My three cats, lazy and complacent just like I was months ago wind between my legs as I load everything into my truck bed. The three crates, filled with probably a little over twenty bombs each, get wrapped in tarps and secured down with thick cables. I make them as stable as an explosive can be, but I don't want to push my luck any farther than I have to. Next to that is an ammo box almost bursting with hand-loaded incendiary .45 ammo. The bullets pack less of a bang than the bombs, but they'll still be useful. The Jericho pistol I picked up a few weeks ago is secure in the center console of the truck ready and waiting for action. My small backpack gets thrown in the backseat, full of nothing but a few changes of clothes and a flask of whiskey.

I might be dying, but I plan on coming back from this alive. Even if my life contingency plan has been put on hold – after all, what can I do with the only copies of the books that could help me gone? – and even if my chest wants to crack open in grief most days, I still want to stick around. The question now is _how. _Sure the Volturi might have _the_ book, the one that might not even exist, probably doesn't exist, given my track record of awesome luck, but how the flying fuck am I going to get at it? Not that I haven't got some idiotic plans on that involve going to Volterra and burning everything to the ground; blowing things up is apparently my new modus operandi. Because even with shit falling apart I'd much rather live through it to hopefully find my mate – and what I told Swan is true. I'd deck him fucking good.

A sloppily written note is all I'm leaving for the girl; she's taking care of my house and already knows what to do, already has most of my money in a safe in the spare room just in case. No long goodbyes, not for me. I'll go see Evie in the morning, let her know I'm taking an extended vacation, but I can't do that with my student. I've been far too soft. And she's tough; she's got her dad and our friends on the reservation. She'll be fine.

Climbing into my own bed for the last time in who knows how long, I stare out the window at a half moon and wonder when things got so screwed up. Life _seemed_ so much simpler with my mate at my side, like everything would just fall into place. Now all I want is what John wanted, what everyone who's lost all there is to lose wants; to see the world burn. The right parts of it, in my opinion. Going back to how things were before, that I know how to do. I know how to hunt and kill, and I was stupid to think someone like me could live a peaceful life or become something other than what I was raised as. Happy fairytale endings are for _kids_; this is real life.

I'm not ready to die just yet, but if my ending includes seeing that bitch Maria lose it all, I'll take it.

* * *

"I'm really sorry about leaving so suddenly, Evie."

Evelin, ever understanding, circles the counter at the thrift shop to give me a hug; for such a wispy woman, she hugs like a bear. I catch the faintest hint of patchouli oil on her hair and bittersweet sadness hits me, hard. I might want to do this, I might want to go on what basically amounts to some sort of twisted vengeance rampage, but part of me still wonders if this is right. Maybe I should still be focusing on trying to get the book from the Volturi…but I don't even know where I would start with that.

"He'll be back, you know. How could he stay away from you, Rory? It isn't possible."

I shrug in response, not knowing how to begin to tell her that pigs will fly before that happens, and change the topic, "I plan on coming back, and maybe –"

"You'll still have a place here. Go on; get started on your adventure. I hate long goodbyes."

I'm glad I'm not the only one. With a wave I leave the shop and walk back to my truck, ready to make the trek down to Mexico. There is one quick stop I have to make first, though – the post office. I have a quick letter to write to officially kick things off, get the ball on this plan really rolling.

On a piece of blank printer paper with a bright red sharpie, I draft my message in large, harsh letters.

_I'm gunning for you Maria. I'll see everything you have, everything you love, __**burn**_.

_Get ready._

She'll know who it's from so I don't bother signing my name. Using the address I had memorized off one of the letters Jasper had received regarding his maker, I seal it carefully and slip the envelope into the drop box smiling all the while.

If I have to keep thinking about him, at least I can kill some bloodsuckers in the process.

* * *

(A/N: Mostly just exposition and set-up here, sorry for the wait! Hopefully this doesn't happen too often, as I like my everyday updates, but this chapter was a bitch to write. Anyways, hopefully this clears up some questions; I had intended Rory to soften through her time in Forks, but this is a major emotional set back for her. I think it's half because she's never had a real relationship where she was in love and someone left her and also because this soul mate bond is some craziness. So she's defaulting to the violence that's ruled her life. I've got some plans for the Major, as well...Mwhaha. So, thanks so much for taking the time to review/view/favorite/follow and get ready for Mexico!)


	24. Chapter 24

Forever – Let it Burn

The plan here, the master plan, is an oldie but goodie and ensures I don't have to do too much heavy lifting. All I'm going to need is a detonation trigger and enough energy to fight hopefully only a handful of vampires. Getting a smaller coven to move on the Maria's group will be tricky, but I've pulled this off once before – barely. Pitting armies against each other requires finesse, and I'm going to need a lot of it to thin the ranks before I waltz in to finish her off.

It won't be a problem sniffing out unorganized covens, if a person could even call the informal truces in the south covens. The problem will come in getting them to band together long enough to wage an attack on the Mexican coven. I'll need to send a clear message with as little collateral damage as possible. I don't need a bunch of civilian casualties on my hands, and if I take out a whole slew of bloodsuckers in a few blasts my plan is fucked. I've never been the best at strategy, but now there's not much of a choice. I'll either get good at it or get dead.

Fourteen hours out of Forks on a blank stretch of I-84 I sleep; try to sleep, at least. My brain is firing off like crazy. I'll need to stop in Albuquerque first, hopefully find a coven large enough worthwhile, then cut over to Texas and look around San Antonio, then skirt the border cities for more bodies to wage my war. It ends up being a two hour stop where I don't get much rest at all.

It's unseasonably warm for November, even going south into a warmer climate. When I reach New Mexico it feels about seventy, and while it shouldn't feel all that hot I'm used to the cool weather of Washington. The sun beats down through the driver's side window – I'm sure I'll have a nice sunburn on one arm. Considering it's been another ten hours on little sleep, I pull off at a run-down looking motel and pay for a night. I need to eat and recharge before hitting the road again; my body can't take the strain of being pushed to the limit anymore. It's ten by the time I get cleaned up and go get some food.

My spine coils into a tense spring as I'm sitting at a diner near the motel nursing a cup of coffee and waiting for my order of pancakes. I cast a surreptitious glance around the room, pretending to be interested in the old photographs lining the walls or the license plates lining the rafters, but I'm scoping out the patrons. The moment my tattoos start to burn through my blood I hear a soft gasp.

The couple sitting at the counter – a girl with a short blond pixie and a man with light copper-brown hair – both look forward, not moving except to breathe. Only I don't think they need to breathe. I catch the woman's glance in the mirror positioned behind the register near her seat. Emerald green eyes shine curiously in her picturesque pale, petite face. The man next to her tenses even more; I catch a brown gaze flick to me in wary concern. I rip my gaze away from the mirror and stare down into the dark depths of my drink.

Those are contact lenses. They're vampires.

This should be good news; I came down here to find vampires to pit against a newborn army and lo and behold, here are some vampires. Everything is coming up daises…right? Something is nagging at me in the back of my mind though – too coincidental. They're _looking_ for someone. If they're looking for me, my plan just got a lot more complicated.

My waitress sets the syrupy sweet meal in front of me and my stomach turns. I feel like I can only handle a few bites, but I force myself to eat as much as possible. If they decide to make a move on me I need to have some energy to burn. Rising to my feet as I down the last of my coffee, increasingly aware of the eyes watching me, I slap a twenty on my table and quickly beat it out of the diner. Back in the still and arid air, I take a deep breath and try to decide how best to lose them in the streets before going back to my room.

"Um, hello?"

I whir around quickly; the couple from before stand on the sidewalk in front of me hand in hand. The woman – though I should probably call her a kid like Swan, she was probably changed when she was just a bit older than eighteen – has a small smile gracing her face after she calls out to me. I find my hand twitching for the pistol concealed in my holster.

"I'm not looking trouble," I'm also about to run – I don't have time for this. Whatever they want isn't on my agenda.

"Oh, neither are we," her eyes widen and I swear I can almost see the red gleaming through the green contacts, "I'm Charlotte and this is Peter. You're Amory, right?"

"You have _got_ to be _fucking_ kidding me," I rub at my temples with my hands, "_the _Charlotte and Peter? From way back when? What'd Jasper do, send you to babysit me? Christ al-fucking-mighty."

"Not exactly," Charlotte says softly as Peter laughs, "he-"

"He told us you're supposed to be in Forks, but William Alford wasn't so sure – we're on our way to Los Angeles to meet him actually. I guess they need bodies to go get whatever the hell it is that'll save you. What are you doing down here?" Peter seems like a very straight forward kind of guy, exactly what I don't need right now. It raises too many questions, like why the fuck everyone is all up in _my_ business without me.

My tongue darts out to lick my lips as I think of what to say. Too vague of an explanation and they'll know something is up, but I can't just say 'Oh, just going to blow up a whole coven, no biggie, see you later' either, not if they're going to see Liam.

"I've got some unfinished business to take care of before I croak. By the way, where _does_ that bastard that calls himself my mate call home nowadays?"

"Business down here…Sounds like you've got some plans."

I shuffle uncomfortably in front of Jasper's friends, eyes darting around the darkness for a way out, "You can say that again."

"You're going after her," It's not a question but a statement. Charlotte knows – they both know – the involved parties, were involved in this craziness themselves once; should've known they'd pick up on why I'm here. The cat's out of the bag.

"Yeah; my unfinished business is that she's not dead yet," I confirm while crossing my arms over my chest, "well, not _permanently _dead."

They exchange a glance before the petite woman speaks again, "I'm sure that Jasper wouldn't want you putting yourself at risk like this."

With a snort I uncross my arms and hold my hands out at my sides, "What _Jasper_ wants isn't always what's right, obviously. If you're so worried, come with me. I could use the backup."

"It's tempting," Peter takes a step forward; he's tall so I have to look slightly up, "but not even the three of us together could pull it off."

"We can take you back to Forks, Amory. Jasper said he was close to figuring out- "

"Look, I appreciate it, Charlie, Pete, I really do, but I have things I need to take care of. It was nice meeting you; sucks the circumstances are so shitty." I turn from the duo to make my way back to my motel room.

"He'll never forgive me if I let you do this," Peter's voice stops me dead in my tracks and I look over my shoulder at the two of them.

"You gonna stop me?" Challenge comes through clearly in my voice.

"I have to tell him what you're planning."

Shit. Everything is officially fucked.

"How long until he hears about this?" From the way they look at each other, unsure and tense, I know they've only heard from Jasper; they don't know where he is.

"It's a race then – let's see who wins." With that I stalk off into the night towards the neon glow of the motel sign. What a waste of money; now I won't even be able to catch a few hours of decent sleep. This really throws a wrench in my plan – I'm not going to have the time to work slowly. Hopefully I have two days, three tops before they finally get in touch with Liam and Jasper and get back down here. By then I'll be in Monterrey burning shit to the ground. No time to orchestrate a false territory squabble.

I'm going in alone with a lot of things that go boom – not such a bad Plan B if you ask me.

Grabbing my few belongings from the seedy motel room, I sling my pack back into my truck and light up a cigarette. It's another fourteen hours to Monterrey; I'll be there in ten.

* * *

Going into the main part of the city at this point would be suicidal; after my nice note months ago, I'm sure Maria has the area on high alert for a bat-shit insane hunter. I pick a district on the outskirts, a place named Escobedo. It's all of twenty minutes out of Monterrey and perfect for my purposes; I need a bit of time to let the sun set and plan out a new attack strategy. According to Jasper, Maria is holed up in a sprawling villa, almost a small town itself, outside of Monterrey. Good news for me; if she was in the main hub of the city I'd have to abandon my incendiary bombs too.

I have a bite at a nearby restaurant, and as I look down at my lunch it strikes me that this might well be my last meal. Before I left Forks, I was sure I'd be making it back from this. Now I'm not all that certain. I tried to train, I've been trying to eat, but it's painfully obvious that I'm wasting away now that I'm out of the safe haven of my small town. Muscle is giving way to skin and bone. I've never looked womanly by any stretch of the word, but at least I had some meat on me. Now I look like fucking Skeletor, and he makes it look _way_ more intimidating.

As I eat I write a just-in-case-shit-goes-sideways-which-it-probably-will note, something they'll find on my corpse, a half-assed last will and testament to someone I never properly aired my last grievances with:

_Trouble– _

_I love you. I'll always love you, and that makes me so damn angry; I hate the way you left, I hate your reasoning for it, and also fuck you. I know you did what you thought was right, but you were so fucking wrong I can't even find solace in that. Maybe going on a killing spree isn't the best idea, but what else am I supposed to do? You should have known better than to think I'd sit around waiting forever._

_I've got to do this while I've still got it in me. If I died and you were close to finding that mark…I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so._

_I'll see you in Hell, and I'll love you until the fire burns out._

_\- Kitten_

The part of me that knows this is crazy wonders what the fuck I'm doing taking things to such an extreme. I'd liked living in a quiet town with my strange new sitcom of a life, but this is _beyond_ reason. This need to hunt is back and unhealthy, just like everything else in my life now, fueled by a strange sense of vengeance for perpetrations that happened a century ago; all for a man who left me.

I order a few shots of whiskey once I finish my food and the letter is tucked away neatly in my holster. Probably should quit with the booze and cigarettes, but what the fuck – if I _am_ about to die it might as well be with a buzz. With that thought I do three shots of the liquid fire back to back, savoring the burn as it spreads through my body. Sauntering back out to my car underneath the warm Mexican sun I climb into the sweltering cab. Instead of driving into Monterrey I skirt the bustling city, sticking to the more rural roads surrounding the area. Driving down the 410 I finally spot a sprawling villa near the edge of a wildlife preserve. It's set back away from the main road, and it looks like the path there is just dirt.

Switching from the cab to the truck bed, I pull out my harmonica and start a slow, bluesy tune as I wait for sunset, flask close at hand.

* * *

By the time the red stained-sky is turning vivid hues of purple and blue I have all my crates corralled in a grove of dense brush, a scant fifty yards from the first building in the villa. Instead of rigging them to timers, I have them all set up for trigger detonation; I'll hit the kill-switch before they can disarm the bombs if it gets too hairy.

From here they shouldn't be able to sense me; that works both ways though, I have a small portion of my tattoos working to cover the scent of my blood but I can't waste energy trying to sniff them all out yet – too many vampires to pinpoint locations with limited abilities. It'll be dangerous to try and infiltrate the compound with limited senses, but where would the fun be if it was _easy? _

I've got a fix, a cheat, an edge – I reach into my bag and close my fist around James' venom. Oh, I haven't forgotten about him, no sir. I take out my needle kit and select one of the smaller ones, one point on the end, handle carved from dark cherry wood that shines like it's bloodstained in the pale moonlight. Once everything is hopelessly on fire, Maria might get the idea to run. She won't get very far if she does; the second the needle filled with venom hits the inside of my forearm, I _feel_ my tracking senses heightening. The takes a little shy of five minutes with how small it is, and all the while I can hear crickets singing in the background – the quiet before the storm. When the venom is gone and the tattoo is finished, I inhale deeply, testing the new power.

I smell her, a mixture of sun-warmed wild flowers and cinnamon. Most of the guesswork from before is gone as well; I can sense at least a score of them, though about fifteen of those are newborns.

Stuffing a few bombs into my backpack I stalk across the grounds, through fields of random vegetables and around sheds and outbuildings. I spot a few guards; it's a bit of a game as I dodge and duck them trying to infiltrate the mansion. I send a few more of my tattoos into drive the closer I get to the bulk of the forces – if they catch my scent now I'm _really _screwed. Luckily a few of the members look like they're departing to get a meal. I need to find where they're keeping the newborns and plant my payload from there.

Feral snarls and the smell of fresh blood tip me off as I reach a barn, and I notice the bolts sticking out of the old wood. It must be heavily reinforced on the inside and it looks like locks are lining the metal door – I've gotta hand it to Maria for keeping things this contained. Quickly but carefully I place six bombs around the perimeter of the building, hidden under dirt or in small bunches of brush. There's no blinking red light to tell me they're live; I just have to trust my skill in explosives is still competent.

Running back and forth from the villa to my small cache, it takes me until the moon is at its peak in the sky to get every bomb planted, sixty give or take. There are a few close calls with her guards, and I can't chance breaking into the mansion I'm sure Maria is in at the moment without using too many of my marks to be too sapped for a fight afterwards. I manage to wiggle into the small crawlspace underneath; the blast probably won't take everyone in the house, but I've got a good fifteen of them rigged underneath their feet. It'll definitely blow a nice hole in the pretty building.

On the return to my small base I survey the scene, careful not to jostle the now empty egg crates as I enter the thick brush. Feeling slightly tired already, I flatten myself out against the dusty ground; the dirt sticks to my sweat-slicked skin but I pay it no mind. I'm already filthy from my escapades, what's a little more grime? Thanks to being newly inked I can power down my tattoos and rest for a minute.

I wait for an nearly an hour, barely breathing, until I can't be still anymore, until my blood is singing for battle.

Cradling the detonator against my chest, I get ready for the blast that will rock the area. I don't know what the response will be from the surrounding towns; hopefully they don't send any kind of emergency response. My finger closes around the trigger and applies just the right amount of pressure as I press shuffle on my music, and suddenly there is nothing but the heat of the flames and my marks mixing with the sounds of metal and screams. I allow myself to get lost in blissful, brutal focus.

As I rush from my hiding spot I see the fields are going up in smoke, and all of the buildings save for the mansion are down and being consumed by flames. The house itself is totally gutted, and fire is pouring out through broken windows. I see a few bloodsuckers and my training takes over. I've got some clips stuffed into the back waistband of my jeans, and the pistol in my hand is spitting fire as soon as I have it drawn.

Of course bullets don't do much to vampires – nothing at all, usually – but these rounds explode on contact, dousing the target in a highly flammable compound that ignites the moment the bullet breaks apart. Vampires that aren't incapacitated can put themselves out, of course, but being on fire usually stops anyone or anything from thinking that clearly.

There aren't too many of the main force left, and wherever Maria is she's getting closer; the scent of flowers is almost overpowering. So much for her running away – I grin in gleeful anticipation.

I'm too focused on her and don't notice a while blur barreling to me from the direction of the newborn holding area. Knocked backwards a good twenty feet, I don't have the time to gain my feet again before the vampire is on me, scratching and biting as venom flies everywhere. I still have a good grip on my gun, but from here I could burn myself alive if I shoot.

Applying pressure to the trigger I decide it's a chance I'll take. Sticking the barrel into the gnashing open mouth I fire off a round before she bites down. I roll away as soon as the vamp grabs at her face in horror and slumps to the side, quickly being consumed by flames. Letting the spent clip thump to the ground I slam another one home with a metallic snap.

Standing and stretching to full height with my gun at the ready, I do a quick sweep of the farm. Maria is still here, I can still –

From the edge of the darkness, half a dozen vampires crowd the yard, plus a short brunette commanding power at their head. She's deceptively soft looking; round doll-like features, pale Latin skin, and a voluptuous figure. I look into eyes that speak of pride and gluttony, but when they land on me recognition dawns in her eyes; horror mixes with rage, and I laugh at her useless fury.

In the next instant, the six vampires charge me. I power all my marks; my nose bleeding as white hot pain sears my body. I catch a lot of hits – sparring kept me sharp enough for the chase, but measuring up against this many vampires in my condition is insane. The second time I almost lose a limb, Maria calls her dogs off.

I fall to the ground, covered in dust and bleeding profusely. There are cuts and bite marks all over me, and the burn is grating against my blood even as I power down my marks. It's a good thing I tattooed myself before this, or they wouldn't be able to control themselves in the face of so much blood. In the background, I hear a faint, slow clapping.

"So, you must be Jasper's _mate_; such a shame for him." Her accent is thick and would be melodic if it wasn't for the speaker.

"Don't you dare say his name –" I heave in a breath, coughing up blood and black, "-you undead hooker." I manage to regain my feet, working through exhaustion and pain as I look at the pistol now too far out of reach, behind enemy ranks.

"I'm sorry he left you, but he does tend to do that; why take it out on me?"

"You're delusional. You did a lot of bad, _bad_ things to my mate, and even if that weren't true, you make your business out of newborns. It's in my _blood_ to destroy you.

"You don't g-"

"I don't think _you_ get it – I took _everything_ from you. There is nothing left here; you're coven is destroyed, your base of operations is gone, you're _through_."

She follows my movements, eyes never leaving my marks, "We came to an agreement, hunter."

"Yeah, well," I spit on the ground between us, "that's what I think of our _agreement_. Mother_fuck_ an agreement; this is _retribution. This is personal!"_

She smiles, all malice and fury, "Yell all you want, it doesn't look like you'll be doing any more damage tonight. This does present an opportunity, despite you laying waste to my home. I think Jasper would greatly want to see you alive and well again; a bit tortured, but alive. Enough of an incentive to get him down here so we can work out a deal."

"You want him _back?"_ I scoff and blood sputters from my lips, "Well, newsflash; he hates you more than I hate you. And that's saying something. Take your deals and go fuck yourself."

She crinkles her nose in distaste, "The Major's taste has severely declined over the years; how he went from someone like _me _to a sailor-mouthed vagabond like you is beyond comprehension."

I feel myself start to slip, stars dancing in my vision in time with the flicker of the flames. The strain of having my tattoos burning through my blood is too great a strain to ignore now.

"Don't worry dear Amory," Maria's face swims in and out of focus as she approaches me, "I have just the people to make you feel welcome in Monterrey."

I take two shaky steps backwards, away from her and the six vampires eyeing me like a steak before I trip and my ass hits the dirt. Under the pale moon, in a burning Mexican villa, I succumb to the darkness.

* * *

(A/N: I love these kinds of chapters, they're just so fun to write! How 'bout what just went down? Quite the meeting, and things are getting messy in Mexico for our dear heroine! How will things turn out? How will everyone react? Stay tuned to find out! Per usual, thank you all for the reviews/views/followers/favorites! You guys are totally rad!)


	25. Chapter 25

Farewell Amory

"Are you sure we're doing the right thing here Char? We should just find Jasper and get him down to Mexico."

Charlotte narrows her eyes as she winds through the streets of Los Angeles looking for a particular residence, "Neither of us knows how to find the Olympic coven right now, Peter. If we can get to William Alford he can get in contact with Jasper; this is the only way to save her."

The man stays silent in thought; he hopes they can, because if Amory is lost so is Jasper. Charlotte puts her foot to the accelerator and breaks every traffic law to get there as quickly as possible. Rubber burns on the pavement as she skids to a stop in front of an apartment with a shop underneath, and the pair rush up the stairs at vampire speed.

The petite woman doesn't bother with formal introductions when the tall older gentleman opens the door, "William, its Amory, she-"

"I'll call Jasper – you drive," Liam pales as he downs his scotch and dials a number. All he can think is that his adopted daughter can't stay out of trouble even when she's on deaths door.

_Mon petite chat, what have you done?_

* * *

Even if he didn't have these pictures he'd remember every curve of her face, every line on her body. Alice had shuffled the pictures of her and Bella away after leaving Forks, and had subsequently left the Cullen family with the Denali coven – the loss has her seeing every future as a dark one, always focused on the bad, and she couldn't take staying. Jasper almost left a few times, too, but the support of his family is the only thing keeping him from truly losing it.

That fateful night, as soon as the Major was securely locked away in his mind again, Alice and he that had come to the conclusion that moving would be best for both mortals they courted. But Rory had been so hurt the day he left, so blind-sided. What she said had nearly ruined his resolve to leave, but if he stayed, if the Major tried to claim her as _his…_

He would never forgive himself if anything happened to her because of him. That night was everything he ever feared would come to pass; he watched as he made it impossible for her to resist, and if she wasn't a hunter that bastard might have succeeded. He was unable to do anything but scream at the dark force inside of him to stop, that she was his. Those cries fell on deaf ears, and it was only her sudden rage that caught the Major off guard enough for him to come forward again.

He hadn't intended on going back to say goodbye – that part of his resolve crumbled quickly. He only lasted two restless days before he had to see her again.

Days. He scoffs contemptuously at himself. Days would be welcome; months are sheer Hell.

"Hey Jazz-man."

Jasper is shaken from his thoughts and nearly drops the picture in his hands. Emmett sits in the chair across from him, and looks down fondly at the woman in the picture.

"Ink is one of a kind."

The blond rakes his fingers through his hair, "I think I'd give anything to get her back. I keep asking myself why I haven't just gone back and…I don't know why I haven't tried to make this right somehow."

"Well?" Emmett looks at him expectantly, ever sure the obvious answer is the right one – that things rarely ever go deeper than that.

"It's too dangerous," he stares into the warm chestnut eyes of the love of his long life, still full of vigor even in the glossy photograph, "I won't risk her safety. _He_ wants her-"

"So, take her first," the larger man shrugs, "go back and make her yours, won't that shut him up?"

"No," Jasper's response is automatic; he refuses to believe anything other than being separated from him is good for her well-being.

But when he went back, even in the midst of that last heated kiss the darkness in his mind was once again absent. He can't bank on that being a constant, so he was relieved when she commanded him out. Since then he's pleaded with the force in his head, tried to make the beast see reason.

The Major is strangely silent – almost despondent.

As soon as they'd gotten to Alaska, nearly all of his time was and is consumed by researching with Amory's adopted father, William Alford. The older man had been surprised at his first call – Amory had called and told him everything that had transpired since January. When his daughters mate explained the plan to use a mysterious mark to save her, Liam began to pull every favor he could everywhere he could think to.

Saving his beloved is still Jasper's number one priority; maybe if they have more time, things will work o-

Suddenly Edward barrels into the room, his face the picture of seriousness, "Jasper, it's…Alice is back. R-Rory, she –"

Feeling the fear on him, the blond responds instantly, "What? What is it?"

Edward can't describe the horror of Alice's vision; Amory Belmont lying in a puddle of blood staring up at the sky has his heart breaking. It's not just Jasper's emotions for her, either – after spending so much time in her mind, sifting through her ever-irreverent thoughts, he too came to care for the hunter. But he knows those feelings will forever be unrequited; his brother's happiness and her happiness come first. It doesn't take the sting of the image away, though, and the room is silent has he struggles to find the right words to break the terrible news. There's something about it though, something –

The pixie who'd been absent for months appears a moment later, wide eyes terrified and apologetic as she slumps in shame, "I'm so sorry Jasper, I'm so sorry – I saw it too late. She went after Maria, she escaped, but – oh god, she's _dead. Amory is dead."_

While Edward see's Alice's vision, he's not quite convinced the hunter could be put down so easily, not without seeing it with his own eyes. As Jasper bolts from the house, formulating ways to kill John and then Maria before joining the woman he loves – loved – in whatever the afterlife turns out to be.

Then his phone rings, and Edward answers the call.

* * *

(A/N: *cue super suspenseful music* She's dead! No! Jasper is pulling the same stupid stunt now, too – what's going to happen!?

You'll see. Mwhaha.

So, you totally don't have to worry about a love triangle(because she's dead…right?), that's not why I briefly mentioned Ed's more than platonic attachment to Rory. I've got plans for him, though; this adds a facet to him I think is at least semi-important. He's never been my most favorite – both main characters in this book just never _quite_ did it for me – but I'm explaining all the brooding and general saltiness as him being _lonely._ Sad Professor is sad! D: I feel like such a meanie posting this alone (unless you're reading this when the next chapter is up, then yay for you!), but there will be more! Thanks guys!)


	26. Chapter 26

"The miserable have no other medicine  
But only hope:  
I've hope to live, and am prepared to die."

"If I must die  
I will encounter darkness as a bride,  
And hug it in mine arms."

* * *

Price and Penance

"-where he is or ya can-"

"-want this to last longer than it has to?"

"Shit guys, she knows how to take a beating. Is this even working?"

My head lolls to the side as I spit out blood and what looks suspiciously like a tooth before turning to the four mercenaries assembled in front of me, "You hit like my eighteen year old apprentice; what a bunch of fucking _pansies_." I'm hanging on to consciousness a good twenty percent of the time – well, I think. I've been down here for a few days maybe – time is getting fuzzy.

The room is a cement twelve by twelve cell with nothing but me roped to a metal chair and what looks like a tool case. Don't think these guys are into home improvement, though. I'm fairly certain I'm underground; there don't seem to be any natural light sources down here and when the mercenaries come down to do their work – sometimes alone, sometimes all together like this – I hear their heavy footfalls on stairs. I think I've heard someone else down here with me, too, but I can't be sure. The echo that reverberates through the empty space has me hearing all sorts of strange things.

They don't want me functional through my injuries, like John had long ago. They've already electrocuted me – goddamn car batteries hurt like a son of a bitch – starved me, and beat me to a pulp; pretty sure just my nose is broken, if I'm lucky. They've got quite the arsenal of nasty tools to do nasty things. Guess I should thank my lucky stars I don't have anything worse than a busted nose and empty stomach.

The biggest one who talks in a slight Spanish accent sends me reeling with another punch; it connects so hard it sends the chair I'm tied to toppling to the ground. Blood drips from my mouth as he picks up the chair and scowls when he sees me smiling through the pain.

"Just give it up," one of the oily bastards says from behind him, "where is he?"

"Don't know," I heave a breath through my mouth with difficulty, "what I do know is you assholes are wasting your time. Get fucked."

Clearly not enjoying my answer or my attitude, he grabs a pair of bolt cutters from their macabre playthings and approaches me. Twenty four inches of steel tipped with razor sharp edges gleam ominously in the light of a naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling. A million equally horrifying scenarios run amok in my head as he circles around me, deciding what to take first.

"Whadya think boys? We could cut out her tongue –"

"We need her to be able to talk, ya idiot."

"Cover her mouth – this'll make her _sing." _Oil slick says from behind me, grabbing at my hands.

I clench my fingers into fists, but it's no use; the largest of the three has a hand over my mouth and the other two are behind me prying my digits apart for their bolt cutter happy friend. I don't have the strength to resist.

The cool feel of the metal around my little finger, right under the first knuckle, is only momentary – it quickly gives way to excruciating pain. It tears through the skin and sinew easily; when he reaches the underlying bone he wrenches the tool as he applies more leverage, and I gag against the hand on my mouth as I both feel and hear the sharp snap of my finger being completely severed. Blood drenches my other fingers, and when I try to close my hand into a fist again a tremor wracks my body.

They really fucking did it – my finger is gone; my tattoos are worthless when I'm this weakened. Bile rises to my throat again as I try in vain to protect my remaining appendages. Blood is quickly soaking the ropes I'm tied with and I try in vain to staunch the flow of it.

I scream bloody murder against the hand clamped over my mouth, but it's useless. The more I fight the more fun they seem to have.

"Now, did that change your tune?"

Black spots dance in my vision and I shake my head wildly the moment the big guy removes his hand, "_Fuck you! I'm going to kill every fucking las-" _

He covers my mouth again and the metal digs into my right ring finger next, my eyes roll back into my skull in response to the pain as the finger is sundered from my hand in a similar fashion to the first. Screw them; they can take all my fingers if they want. I won't sell out Liam – hell, I won't even tell these fucking cunts about Peter and Charlotte. I hold it together until they hold the severed fingers in front of my face, cackling manically. This time I do vomit and almost choke on the bitter acid before the big guy takes his hand away with a disgusted scowl. I manage to spit in his face before the fact that _I just lost two fingers _hit's me and I pass out again.

* * *

"-llo? Are you alive?"

The voice I hear upon waking is frightened, trembling, and yet oddly comforting. Dried blood cakes my lips and a quick feel around with my tongue confirms that I am indeed missing a tooth. Then I remember my fingers. I try to flex them and whimper in pain, but the action lets me feel the soft cotton gauze sopping up the blood.

"It sounds like they did quite a number on you," the girl – she must be a girl – sounds sympathetic to my plight.

"They take everyone's fingers or just mine?" Talking _hurts._

"I think you just know how to push their buttons."

"At least they just seem like sickos and not sexually deviant sickos. Silver-linings, right?"

She laughs, unsure and almost to the point of disbelief at my levity, and my abilities don't need to be in play for me to taste the sudden metallic tang in the air – the static charge of magic hangs thickly in the dank and now very coppery scented air. The slightest pressure is relieved from my throbbing hand and mouth, and I hear a cry of triumph from the cell next to mine.

"What's Maria doing with a witch?"

"What's she doing with a hunter?"

"Touché," I relent, assessing the damage done to other parts of my body – I'm pretty wrecked, "but in all seriousness, where are we? How long have you been here? How long have _I_ been here?" My voice gets hoarser the longer I talk. I'd kill for a glass of water.

"Me, about a week; you've been here two, three days? I tried stopping an attack on a human by one of Maria's vampires and it landed me in here. Who knows where we are – the middle of nowhere, probably. Seems like they're just trying to intimidate me now, though; they've hit me around a few times, but they haven't done anything like they've done to you to me.."

"I really know how to get on peoples shit lists. Who are you?"

"Madeline Mercier. Who are _you?_"

"Amory Belmont. Listen, kid –"

I hear a contemptuous snort from the right side of my cell bars, "Please, I'm twenty and an accomplished healer."

"Ok Witchie, listen up; we're getting out of this slice of Hell on Earth as soon as those goons get back. Are you tied up?"

"No – they don't think I'm a threat. I'm not, I just help people."

She sounds scared again but before I can assure her things will be alright I hear heavy footfalls descend a staircase into the basement prison we're currently captive in. The man stops in front of my new pal's cell, looks like he's checking we're still alive; it's the big guy, and soon he's in front of my cell, staring at me with weathered looking charcoal eyes.

Water? Screw that, I'd kill for some whiskey. I need some liquid courage right about now.

"Hey asshole, you here to give me some more love taps? Can't even shut up a terminally ill bitch," I tut and smile when I see him getting worked up by my words, "what a fucking disappointment."

"I'm the one with the bolt cutters, whore. Keep talking – we'll take your tongue next."

"You don't have the _balls_ sweetheart."

I fight back a snarl of victory as he unlocks the cell door and enters without shutting it behind him. He advances on me quickly, hand thrown over his body to deliver a backhand, but I _do_ have a plan.

My still slightly bleeding hand is slick, slippery enough to slide through the ropes around my wrists – I'm pretty sure I dislocate my thumb in the process, but at this point that's the equivalent of a paper cut. I duck his punch and reach for the pearl handle knife stuck in his belt. He delivers a blow to my body before I plunge the knife deeply into his throat.

It's a good kill, quiet, and without the slightest use of my unresponsive tattoos. I wait for his gurgling to stop before pulling out the blade now dripping crimson. His blood gets on me as I saw through the ropes still tying me to the chair and I cringe; I might grimy, but dirt is nothing compared to the blood of this filth. My legs feel like lead as I stumble over to where he fell on the cold stone floor. I have to hold the wall for support as I stoop to snatch the keys and knife scabbard off his belt and make my way towards Mercier's cell.

She's covered in grime and grit, just like me but with way less blood – she does have a few hand shaped bruises on her arms from being thrown around, and there is a fading purple shadow on her jaw. Her shoulder length dark curly hair is matted down and her dark skin looks dull, and for a moment I'm reminded of Laurent, that Frenchie vampire, but bright and intelligent hazel eyes – human eyes – look at me in awe.

"You –"

I hold one finger over my mouth and fight another wave of nausea when I finally see the covered stumps of my fingers. I pop the blade handle into my mouth as I try the other cell key on the ring I lifted – thank God there are only two cells down here. It opens with a pop and she's out, already inspecting my injuries with a critical eye.

"I thought you were ill; cancer, right? You're a mess, how are you still _alive?_"

"Dumb luck; you're right about the cancer, but if we don't get the fuck out of here that's not what'll kill me. Come on Witiche." I say in a rush and motion for her to follow me.

I climb the stairs with some difficulty, leaving the dark and dingy cement behind me. Madeline is close on my heels, breathing scared and heavy. I pop my head around the open door frame, trying to sense anyone still in the house. Out of the corner of my eye I catch movement and duck back into the stairwell, heart beating erratically. Blood drips from my bandaged hand to the concrete landing as I formulate my next move.

As usual, I don't get the chance. Another one of the bastards is still home, and by the way he doesn't call out for help when he sees us out of our cages I guess everyone else is gone. It's not the guy that took my fingers, but I still take pleasure in driving him back into the hallway and planting the knife deeply in his heart. His dying eyes look up at me in confusion and it sinks in that the only reason I was able to take him out was because of his surprise. Spent, I yell with effort and with one heaving twist I dislodge the blade. Shaking like a leaf I watch his corpse as it falls limply to the floor.

"One quick search and we're out. Did you have anything on you when you got caught?" Cabinets get wrenched open and tables get upturned as I start to search for my holster and gun.

She nods frantically and mimics me as I tear the hovel apart, "My spell book – its blue leather with a strange lock."

Knocking over a metal box, my stuff tumbles out with her book. Before I toss it to her I take a cigarette out of my case, and then shrug on my holster. When I'm taking the first long drag, I tuck the silver case back into its home near my heart.

"We need to fix your injuries Amory, you-"

"We _need_ to get out of here," I say, cigarette dangling from my lips as I check my pistol whole looking for an exit that's not the front door, "I'd _love_ to stick around, get patched up, and hand the last two their own asses, but we don't have the _– fuck_, looks like we're going out the front door." One minute is enough time wasted, we need to _go._

I've got no idea where they put my extra clips, and there's no time to keep looking – I have six shots in the mag. Things better go smoothly for once; plans A-Z have been exhausted. Pushing a frightened Madeline clutching her blue book to her chest behind me, I ready my gun and pull the door inwards, ready to feed those bastards lead and fire if they're outside. Here goes nothing.

Really, nothing; no two men in wait, and unfortunately no car; even the landscape around us is nothing but desert and weeds.

"Looks like we've got a long hike."

* * *

"Moral of the story? Falling in love with a bloodsucker…sucks." I have my arm slung around Maddie's shoulders for support as I tell her – at her request – how I came to be battered and alone in Mexico.

Her nose wrinkles in distaste at the thought, "That's the worst love story I've ever heard."

"Tell me about it," there's a lull in the conversation as she adjusts my arm and shuffles her feet forward in step with me again.

"So Witchie, where are you from?"

"Really? You're beat to a pulp, missing fingers –"

"Don't remind me."

" – and you're making small talk?"

"Yup; keeps my mind off the whole finger thing, thanks for bringing that up again."

She heaves a sigh, "I was born in Canada, near Montreal. My aunt raised me and we moved to Nevada when I was about five. My life isn't nearly as crazy as yours – getting captured was the first _really_ terrible thing that's ever happened to me that I can remember. I was just down here to study magic, not get caught up in _this._"

"Not as crazy? You do realize you're a witch, right?"

"I'm a _healer."_

I stop to catch my breath, "That's a tough break; we're getting out of here, though. Fuck dying in a desert."

"So, are you going back to Forks now?" She urges me along again, and I'm glad I'm not alone or I'd be crawling by now.

"Dunno; who knows what Maria will do now, and I should head to Volterra to ask after that _mythical_ book before I bite the dust. Hell, maybe it exists and they'll just give it to me. That wouldn't be the crazi-"

We both snap our heads in the direction of a revving engine – the last two are coming back and we're sitting ducks out here. I lift her arm from my shoulders and give her a push towards a small outcropping of rock, too small to conceal us both.

"Get down and don't come out until they're gone. _Stay there." _At my words she nods firmly and narrows her eyes at the incoming car; it's a nice try at being tough, but I can see the worry in her compassionate eyes.

So this is how it ends; a showdown in the fucking desert, sick and battered and holding on by a thread. I draw my weapon with my left hand as my right hangs lamely at my side and take aim.

I'm not about to be taken alive, not again. Maybe I'll pull this off, too. I'm Kitten, right? I've got nine-lives.

The barrel of a revolver pokes out of the passenger side window and starts unloading. I try to pop their tires or bust the windshield, but I'm a piss poor left handed shot when compared to my right hand, not to mention I'm swaying on my feet from all the blood loss and exhaustion. All my shots go wide, and just as I'm about to turn to run, pain explodes through my rib cage and into my heart.

So the cancer didn't do me in after all. Instead I get gunned down under the sunny Mexico sky by a couple of thugs – what a waste. My vision goes tunnel and despite how hard I try to move my arms to stop the blood I know is flowing from the wound, the fire spreading through my chest cavity is makes it impossible. Everything gets progressively darker, and everything I've done, everyone I've cared about flashes before my eyes; gotta say, this whole death thing is actually pretty cliché. Guess all nine-lives are gone – surprised it took this long.

"Fuck." Of course my last word is a curse; my voice is a whispery croak as my lungs burn.

Why is _now _–at what is literally the back end of forever, going down what is most probably the highway to hell – when I choose to get my head out of my ass and really realize that I acted just as asinine as Jasper did? That if I had handled things differently things would be different, all this might not be happening? Typical last moment's hindsight is twenty-twenty bullshit.

The physical and emotional exhaustion finally fade away as I hand myself over to the murky depths of death.

* * *

(A/N: Now we know how Amory ended up dead – she is dead, right? – in the middle of nowhere Mexico. Things are getting _pretty_ heavy; also very graphic – sorry if you don't like the gruesome stuff, but I live for it. I Tarantino'ed the last two chapters; this one was originally going to be posted right after the battle with Maria, but I liked the way it flowed reversing them. Quotes at the beginning belong to Shakespeare, they're from Measure for Measure. Stay tuned – things are coming to a head! Thanks for all the support, views/reviews/favorites/follows, I'm like a kid on Christmas when I get any of 'em! Keep being awesome you lovely people you!)


	27. Chapter 27

Dirge for a Joker

Always in the middle of a kiss  
Came the profane stimulus to cough;  
Always from the pulpit during service  
Leaned the devil prompting you to laugh.

Behind mock-ceremony of your grief  
Lurked the burlesque instinct of the ham;  
You never altered your amused belief  
That life was a mere monumental sham.

From the comic accident of birth  
To the final grotesque joke of death  
Your malady of sacrilegious mirth  
Spread gay contagion with each clever breath.

Now you must play the straight man for a term  
And tolerate the humor of the worm.

* * *

The After

Cast adrift on a sea of time – that's the best way I can think to describe my current state of un-being. Slivers of what I've done, who I've met and hated or loved, things I've gotten right and wrong pass before me as prismatic and colorful as the lens of a kaleidoscope. Pain is a thing of the past, and feeling is now a foreign concept. I'm seeing everything through my mind's eye, as my I'll never truly see again; after all, what use is sight to the dead?

I'd almost been hoping death would mean an absence of thought, too. Now there's time to think, sift through emotions; something I should have done a long time ago. There's time to regret, as well – I'd always fervently wished I'd have no regrets at my time of passing, but life had other plans. My own idiocy damned me and put the final nail in my coffin. It's time to be real about the situation with Jasper and the Major, now that it's too late for this wisdom to do anything but be completely worthless. No jokes, no levity – if only for a moment.

The guy is a real bastard, but he's part of the man I love. I couldn't kill him any more than I could kill Jazz. Essentially it would be destroying a part of him. Even if that part isn't winning any gentleman of the year awards any time soon, it's still _him_. He's not the only one with a darker side he wants to push past, I'm in – or was in – that same boat with him. But we both went about things all wrong; we should never have tried stifling those parts of ourselves in the deepest reaches of our minds. There's middle ground between slowly killing off parts of our spirit and giving into malicious and violent intentions. Learning to embrace those darker parts, rising above those ingrained primal actions and reactions, living without fear of oneself; those are the things I should have focused on, _we_ should have focused on.

Man, here we go with this hindsight is twenty-twenty bullshit again. Should have, could have, would have – not much consolation for my current state in those words.

If I had looked at things that way the night of the party and in the days after, things would have been much different. My reaction to the Major ought to have been completely different, understanding and not blindly enraged. Instead of making Jasper feel like he could stay, that I while it was indeed dangerous I would show both of them my absence of fear through acceptance, not abhorrence. But I made him feel like he had to leave to protect me, like the only option was one wherein he had to be ashamed of something past his control. It wasn't fair in the least – he'd seen me rip a vampire apart, lose my control during battle, never looked at me any differently once he knew who I really was…And I didn't return the same courtesy. For so long I've been alone that I guess selfishness in that regard is what I default to. These mistakes compounded on each other proved more fatal than my disease.

Frankly, the family and Jasper are going to need the Major now; that brand of violence is what will be required to survive. I don't think for a second Maria will let go what I did to her; I might have a bone to pick with the Olympic coven for leaving me for dead, but that kind of retribution will be harsh. I'm past being pissed now, what's the point when I'm dead? Not like I wouldn't have taken them back after – after giving them a lot of grief – if they'd shown up before I died. It's my fault all this is happening, my fault they'll be hunted by another newborn army.

How foolish I was to believe I could go back to that part of myself when my very soul had been changed by my time in Forks, by my time with the Cullen's, and most of all by my time with the one man I have ever and will ever truly love. Hunting, my life, had been easy before my interim there, driven by rage at my past and a desire to make up for my wrongs. I never took into consideration that the _why_ of my hunting, that the very essence of me being a hunter, would be completely changed by the catalysts I encountered in the past year.

I shouldn't have gone after Maria, not for a dim-witted attempt at revenge or retribution. Now I know that if I had gone into that hunt clear headed with the intention of protecting people and protecting the hidden world of the occult – and, by extension, the family I still care for – that I'd have been at least marginally more successful. Maybe then I wouldn't be taking an eternal dirt nap.

I'd give anything to have just a few more moments alive to apologize to everyone I care about for being so goddamn selfish, to tell Jasper one more time how utterly and hopelessly in love with him I still am, that I was the one who was wrong. I've got nothing left to give, though. Everything has been taken from me.

Time truly makes fools of us all.

Death puts a perspective on things I hadn't expected; forgiveness comes easy, and for the first time in life or un-life I feel semi-wise_._ I wonder what the Doc would say about this – or the Professor, could he read my mind right now if-

From somewhere within the darkness, a bright spark of electricity surrounded by a corona of light; pain slams me back into being, and from somewhere past the void trying in vain to cradle me in death, a familiar voice rings out to banish the shadows.

_I love you, Kitten. I'm so sorry._

* * *

(A/N: As much as I love dialogue, introspective stuff like this just seems to flow for me. I get really anxious writing this kind of stuff though; I delve too deep in my own mind hah! I was listening to all the Silent Hill OST's while writing this chapter and the last one, I highly recommend them if you ever need to get into a really dark head space. Screw Konami for cancelling Silent Hills – what a pisser. Almost forgot, the poem at the beginning here is by Sylvia Plath – I thought it added to this chapter, what with Rory's usual devil-may-care attitude towards her life and death and the serious way she's suddenly seriously thinking about Jasper and the Major as she sorts through her own feelings on the situation. Thanks for views/reviews/follows/favorites as usual, and I hope to have another chapter out shortly!)


	28. Chapter 28

_All-Mother:  
You fought to withdraw from a location which has,  
inside of it, severe quantifiable pain.  
I nearly terminated the mission,  
nearly terminated your life,  
yet you desire to set a course back to it?  
I am not equipped to understand human rationale.  
Sirius, is this what love is?_

_Sirius:  
Yes.  
_

* * *

Don't Close the Coffin Yet

"Wake up! Amory I can hear you _so wake up!"_

Professor? How are you even here? There's no waking up for me, you idiot; I'm dead. I got _shot _– not a fun experience, let me tell you.

"Both of you back up; I think that worked. She's tough – she'll make it. I hope." Make it where, Maddie? I'm a corpse.

Though I'm feeling pretty awful for being dead; this isn't how it was a few minutes ago.

"Be careful – Christ, she's in terrible shape," what Liam is doing here I don't know; I haven't gotten ahold of the whole death thing yet, "do me a favor when we see that brother of yours, Ed, and pop him for me."

"I might not get the chance – he's going after John."

All my pain is back in an instant as I struggle to get up; I succeed in lifting my head up in the bed what I assume is a truck. I'm not quite dead yet and I've got no time to die now; it looks like I've still got at least one more of those nine lives. Or maybe our weird brand of love transcends death itself, tells the Reaper to fuck right off.

"Where?" My voice breaks to nothing in the middle of the word, so I try again a bit more forceful, "_Where?"_

"Amory!" Three voices sound more than jubilant at my awakening.

I'm happy about being alive, don't get me wrong, but I'm in so much agony with my wounds and so confused about just dying that I try to push it all away. It's frighteningly easy; at the moment I'm far more concerned over my bloodsucker.

I motion to the truck cab with a trembling and disfigured hand, "Drive. Explain on the way." I blink up at the sunny sky as my eyes pour tears. Compared to the ensnarling darkness of a few minutes ago, it seems like someone stuck the sun directly in front of my eyes.

And then there's Edward who's glistening in the sun all too brightly for me – it looks as ridiculous as it sounds. He hops down, chancing a last glance at my prone form, and climbs into the cab to fire up the engine. Maddie leans over me, still filthy but with a relieved look in her tired eyes.

"I thought I saw you die," she starts, beginning to check and try to heal the ends of my missing digits, "that car came and gunned you down and I thought it was over for you. Then they stopped and got out. I was sure that was it, but then –"

"You should thank Peter and Charlotte when you see them next – they're the only reason any of us knew you were still alive. We just barely got here; I gunned down the bastards before they absconded with your body or hurt Madeline here. It's been what, ten minutes?"

"I'm surprised you're up so quickly," the woman pipes up, curly tendrils of her hair fly around her face as Ed drives like a bat out of hell, "you have a lot of broken and bruised ribs on the left side of your body along with a nasty contusion. I don't think there's any internal bleeding, but –"

Curious at the damage, I manage to snake my left arm over my body; the moment my hand makes contact with my bandaged side I shriek in pain.

"Don't touch dummy! Look."

Something shines brightly in the light above my eyes, bent and slightly charred silver. My eyes widen in recognition; it's my cigarette case. I'll be damned.

"This stopped the bullet, but it tore inwards at the impact. The velocity of the hit stopped your heart – you were dead for maybe a minute," Maddie holds up her other hand and electricity arcs between her fingertips, "good thing I'm a walking defibrillator."

"And here I thought those things would kill you," Liam says with a slight smile, "boy was I wrong."

"Where is Jasper?" I cough out, trying again to prop myself up on an elbow and failing miserably as I try to push the reality that I was really gone away from my quickly unscrambling thoughts. No pain I've ever been through in my life touches what I'm going through at the moment, but Jasper can't go after John.

He'll end up worse than I did, and considering I just barely made it back from the dead that's not good. If I have anything to say about it, he won't have to endure any of this.

"Alice saw John holding an audience with the Volturi," Edward finally speaks from the cab, still tense from my fresh wounds, "we think Jasper is on his way there now. She's giving me updates as she sees them, but things are fuzzy. Before he left, I could read that Jasper was giving the Major more freedom now that he thinks your dead – it makes him too unpredictable for her to get a good read."

"I'm going to lie here and feel like shit; get us to the nearest airport –"

"We should get you to a hospital –"

"-we don't have time."

Liam looks down at me, and I guess now that I'm alive again he can be cross, "Damn it Amory, you're-

"I'm what? I just _died, _what the fuck else can happen to me at this point? I'm done with this bullshit; I need to fix this."

"A hospital won't help her any more than I can," Maddie offers surely, "and we are _really_ running out of time. You've got a few days left, Rory. I can't do anything more than that."

"That'll have to do. We're going to Volterra. Anyone lays a finger on Jasper's head because of my idiocy and they're _dead."_

* * *

The ride back to San Antonio is fast and bumpy; all three of my companions sit in the cab while I lay face up in the back, warmed by the sun as the wind tousles my hair. A few more days – that's all I'll need to make this right.

We stop near the San Antonio international airport, more specifically one of the not so busy looking gas stations. There's no way Maddie and I are getting past security looking like we do now; I'm covered in dried blood and dirt, and she's not fairing much better. The young woman supports me as she did just a few hours ago, only now day is giving way to dusk and we're both far more somber than we were during our perceived victory hike .

She locks the bathroom door behind us and I strip out of my tattered, filthy clothes before tossing them into one of the sinks and turning it on full blast. At this point I'd rather be wet than grimy. Madeline follows my lead as we start scrubbing down with coarse paper towels and plastic smelling pink soap.

"Thanks for saving my ass," I say through mouthfuls of cool water straight from the faucet, "I really owe you one."

"About that…" She pauses in rinsing out her dark locks to look up at me, "You're going to need me for this."

"Oh really?" I say, the faintest of amusement shining through in my tired and raspy voice, "Maybe. Or maybe you didn't take that warning about falling in love with a bloodsucker I gave you to heart, Witchie."

Her dark cheeks light up crimson as she resumes rinsing her hair, "No! I mean, yes! I mean – Just take me with you to Italy, and I promise I'll make myself useful."

"You sure? The Volturi don't usually take too kindly to visitors – though I bet they expect me to pull a stunt like this."

"I told you before Rory, my life up until now has been pretty dull. Helping is what I do – after the past few weeks I've had, I'm ready for a little more excitement."

"More? Really? Being held captive and then bringing a hunter back from the dead wasn't enough to make you want to leave as soon as possible?" She shakes her head as she tries to dry off her hair with the flimsy paper-towels, "Well then Maddie, you'll fit along just fine with this group. 'We're all mad here.'"

There's a knock at the door and I'm already instinctively reaching for my absent pistol. Next to me Maddie rolls her eyes and calls out to whoever it is.

"Occupied!"

"I know," Edward's voice is muffled on the other side of the door, "we got you two a change of clothes – I'll leave them right in front of the door."

When I hear his footsteps fade away on the pavement I open the door and pull the bag in quickly. Our new duds aren't that fashionable – Texas souvenir shirts and leggings. I note the more than mortified look on Madeline's face when she sees undergarments thrown into the mix.

"Wondering what he'd think of those, huh?"

All I get in response is a glare. She dresses quickly and leaves me alone with my thoughts and wounds; I'm not sure which is more numerous.

The first thing I thoroughly inspect are the stumps of my fingers. Underneath the gauze they're red and irritated, though the skin is healing slowly over bone and exposed flesh already. Have to give it to Witchie – even with me one foot in the grave she can still coax my cells to regenerate. Well, at least I won't have to worry about learning to use my left hand for long. Since the bleeding seems to be stopped, I leave the itchy cotton off. My nose is slightly crooked, but it looks like its settling back into place and the swelling isn't as terrible as I thought it would be. The nice black eye I have reminds me of the one I gave Swan just a short week ago – it already feels like a lifetime away. Other than that there are healing scrapes and cuts and bruises decorating me almost extensively as my tattoo;. I'm not a pretty sight, but fuck it; maybe I'll scare John to death to save Jasper.

More than likely, I'll trade my life for his.

The mess I am, solemn faced with only the faintest hint of life behind my suddenly dull brown eyes, is a stark juxtaposition against the bright white shirt reading "I heart Texas!" I'm currently wearing. Black leggings finish it off, and new socks feel more than wonderful on my tired feet as I slide them back into my familiar old boots.

Those three old assholes are going to laugh at me when I show up like this; damn vampire overlord bastards.

The professor is waiting for me outside of the door; thank god it's fully dark now and he's not sparkling in the sun like a fucking disco ball. He slings one of my arms over his shoulders and he helps me walk back to the waiting truck.

"You have no idea how relieved I am to see you alive," he says lowly, clearly shaken by the last few hours, "when Alice saw you-"

"You don't have to tell me; it was as bad as it looked. Fuck you for leaving by the way," I say with no real ire, dying really kicked my forgiveness into gear, "but it's goddamn good to see you again, Ed. Thanks for believing I'm tougher than death. For the moment, at least."

"We're getting that book; this can't happen again."

"We're stopping Jasper from going after John. If we happen to have time to spare after, I'll be more than happy to look for a mythological book."

He nods firmly and helps me into the back seat of the truck cab. We've got a five minute drive to the airport proper; I'm already impatient by the time we pull up to the curb. How am I going to handle a sixteen hour plane ride while the love of my life is in danger?

"…So, what are the chances you guys will let me have a whiskey before we board?"

Maddie places a hand on my shoulder, "After the day we've had, I say we all deserve a drink. Er, except Edward; sorry!" I'm so caught off guard by her statement that I chuckle; I like this innocent and plain-spoken girl more and more by the second.

Barely an hour later the four of us step on a plane destined for Florence, Italy.

Fucking death traps – at least when I was dead I didn't have to worry about dying in a flying sardine tin. Silver linings.

* * *

We aren't in the Florence airport for a second before I spot three very familiar faces, and not in any way is familiar a good thing in this case. I wish I knew nothing of Jane, Felix, and Demetri, but I've dealt with them more in the past than I care to admit. Edward knows instantly that we're being watched, and I think Liam must at least have an inkling, but Maddie is looking around wide-eyed at the sights with a wide grin on her face.

She's got no idea just how much danger we're in.

"Madeline," Edward says in a whisper, trying in vain to keep the Volturi guard members out of the loop, "I'm going to grab your hand and we're going to follow Rory and Liam outside. Don't make any sudden movements."

In spite of the way I feel I square my shoulders and speed-walk through the crowds as I lead the small group out into the open air.

And out into the waiting ranks of the Volturi.

"Amory."

"Jane – funny story, I was _just_ on my way to see you. Well, not you exactly, but –"

All of a sudden I'm grabbed by one of my sore shoulders and spun around quickly. In front of me is none other than Brynjar Skal. He looks horrified and pissed and happy to see me all at the same time. I smile so wide my face aches; it's good to see a friendly face in Italy.

"Oh great, it's him," Demetri says with a shake of his head, "did you invite everyone you know Belmont?"

"What happened to you, Rory?" Bryn questions softly, "I –"

The petite vampire in front of me, barely more than a child when she was turned, looks up at us with mock-naïve eyes stained red and a pout on her lips, "I loathe interrupting such an interesting conversation, but we must make haste. We've been sent to bring you back to Volterra; there are things that need to be discussed. I guarantee they're things you'd like to hear."

"Since when the fuck have you cared what I like or not?"

"Jasper Whitlock made quite a plea for you." I look at the taller of the dark haired men flanking the small girl.

"He's still here?" I breath out, allowing hope to worm itself into my barely beating heart at Felix's words.

"We've…Detained him," Demetri say's with a sneaky smirk, "but he's making it difficult."

"Fucking touch him, I goddamn dare yo-"

Both men size me up before looking behind me. They share a look and a smile before turning back to me.

"It doesn't look like you're in a position to be making threats, Belmont."

"Felix, suck my di-"

"_**Enough!" **_The smallest of the guards asserts, flipping her ashen brown hair over a slender cloak clad shoulder, "I did not come to argue with you, hunter."

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly come to have a tea-party either. I need to talk to the head cheeses, doll."

Throwing me an annoyed glance, she inclines her head towards two waiting vehicles, "They wish to hold an audience as well; Demetri will drive you."

Jane's never liked me much, mainly because her power doesn't do a damn thing to me - like I haven't felt like my skin is on fire before. Child's play. Edward, Maddie and Liam start briefing Bryn on the situation as I shuffle towards the awaiting darkly-tinted SUV. I move as quickly as my broken body will allow me; every shaky step brings me closer to saving my soul mate. Maybe I can do for him what I couldn't do for myself.

For the first time in my life, I really pray.

* * *

I may hate the Volturi, but as we walk into the darkness, I know how precarious of a position we're all in, and I know trying honey instead of vinegar will cut us all a lot more slack.

After being greeted by a soon-to-be meal with delusions of grandeur, Jane opens the doors to the inner sanctum for us to pass through. The familiar round room has a chill running down the back of my spine. These creepy gothic ass hats know how to make things _really_ creepy and still beautiful. Grey stone seems to be constantly closing in around you in here, and these walls do have eyes – there are vampires spying at every corner in Volterra. They keep us waiting; Jane, Dimitri, and Felix surround us. A tactic meant to intimidate, and it definitely works on Maddie.

"Don't panic." I whisper to her, though I know the others hear. Ed grabs her hand again and she clings to his arm, eyes wide in fear and awe.

Finally the three king-pins come waltzing in, followed by the two remaining wives.

Aro settles his dark gaze on me. The thin looking skin on his face looks like it's about to crack as he smiles humorlessly, "Miss Belmont, William, Edward; what a pleasure to have you in our company once again," his rheumy red eyes flicker to the girl glued to Ed's side and narrow, "and you've brought a witch and Skal as well. Lovely."

"I'm always good for a curveball." I say, whipping out a crushed pack of cigarettes I bought before take-off and a lighter. When the flame bursts to life at the flick of the tinder, I feel Felix at my back, towering over me.

"Easy there, big guy; no one can burn down a stone tower with just a plastic lighter. Not even _I'm_ that good." I take a long drag and blow the smoke into Felix's face; I'll be honey, but I'm not that sweet. Bryn chuckles and stares down the imposing guard with mirth dancing in his blue contact clad eyes.

I flick my tongue out to wet my lips, keenly aware of Chelsea entering the room with Alec as I address Aro, Marcus, and Caius.

"You've got some things I want, and you have a request. I'd like Jasper released, immediately. All other terms can be negotiated but this one."

Caius laughs; it's a sound devoid of humor, "Quite honestly, he's the least of our worries; we're having him brought up as we speak, as well as something you'll be most interested in."

I don't trust these guys as far as I can throw them, and right now that's not very far.

Aro approaches me, extending his hand, "That is, after you answer a few key questions."

I know what this means, I've done this once before; Edward's mind reading is a gentle nudge, a warm presence not my own in my mind, whereas Aro dominates every one of my thoughts, usually those best kept buried. Trembling slightly, hoping none of my stitches tear and I don't bleed through my bandages, I touch the tip of his cold, chalky finger.

I nearly vomit from the intrusion in my mind – he's done in an instant, but it feels like eternity while it's happening. He moves back from me to consult with the other heads of the Volturi, and I heave deep breaths of relief; the pain it causes in my side has me seeing stars.

"The human girl you're training…Isabella Swan, was it? She either becomes one of your kind or one of ours very soon or our arrangement is off."

"What arrangement, Aro? I'm here to get my mate back, what else is there?"

"John," Marcus says in distaste, "he's been making moves on our territories – he even tried breaking in here barely a fortnight ago."

I take another drag from the cigarette in my mangled right hand – shit just keeps getting more interesting, "He must've gotten close to something you don't want him knowing about to get you oldies all ruffled."

"You of all people know how dangerous John is," Aro fixes me with his seemingly all-knowing gaze, "and only a fool would underestimate him. For all our strength, my people are proving to be no match for that cunning old fox."

"We were hoping that pitting you against him would prove most fortuitous for everyone." Caius chimes in with a smile.

"You are being hired for the hunt of John Belmont, now a sworn enemy of the Volturi and all associates. This is not a capture order, Amory; he is to be killed."

"I'm literally on deaths door," I look between the three young yet ancient men, "my healer here gives me a few days. I can barely walk straight let alone go on another hunt."

"We have your solution, my dear girl," Aro steps forward again, looking between my companions before his eyes land on me again, "your mate told us you've been looking for a certain old tome. I believe it holds every secret you're looking for, and exactly what you need to hunt John."

"It _exists?" _Now I really feel like a goddamn idiot – this is what I should have been focusing on from the beginning. _It exists!_

"See for yourself, Miss Belmont," Marcus inclines his head behind the four of us, and I turn on wobbly legs to face a dark archway.

Jasper doesn't have to say anything as he enters the doorway and locks eyes with me; I can feel it all. Joy and sorrow in equal parts, regret and anger burning brightly at the forefront of everything. Those honey eyes I love so dearly look as black as onyx and his usually messy locks are tousled madly about his head – a fitting halo for my Adonis. We both stand rooted to our spots, unable to move. Where do we begin again, what do we say? Then I notice the leather bound book in his trembling hands and remember that now is neither the time nor place for the reunion we so desperately want.

I try my hardest to convey this with my frazzled emotions, but Jasper is still too shocked to absorb any of it. It's heartbreaking to watch his eyes travel my broken body, from the minor cuts and bruises to my busted face. Reflexively I reach for another cigarette; its then he sees the missing fingers on my right hand. The old book drops to the floor with a thud as he finally rushes forward.

Unfortunately, Bryn is there to meet him with a mean right hook. I hear Liam cheer behind me, but everyone else is on high alert. Felix and Demetri are getting ready to interfere, but they don't have to. Soon the battling duo is screaming in pain – Jane's doing. She stands some feet away with a dark smile on her face.

"Stop! _Knock this shit off! I'll help, I'll do whatever you want, just __**stop it!"**_

And just like that they're released; Bryn and Jazz look like they're about to rip each other to pieces at any second, but they manage to contain themselves.

"My little sister _died_ because of _you_ Whitlock. I swear to God –"

"We don't have time for this," I finally assert, turning from both men back to the heads of the Volturi, "if that was all, it looks like I've got a lot of work ahead of me. We're leaving."

"We'll be checking on you very soon, Amory. Please do take care that you don't abuse this agreement. It would be a pity to have to kill you."

"Well Caius, you'd have to find a way to do it first; death and me just don't seem to click," as I kneel down to retrieve the book, my knees give out beneath me. To my surprise it's Madeline who comes to my rescue; she looks too focused on my injuries to care about being afraid anymore.

She helps me to my feet and lets me lean against her as _she_ addresses the Volturi, "Thank you for this kind offer; we'll await your visit eagerly."

The whole room looks shocked at her; she's got a surprisingly silver tongue. I can sense the barely concealed fury and fear lurking beneath the sweetness of her words.

"A last peace offering – Maria contacted us. It would have been auspicious had you succeeded in your attempt on her and her coven. She wanted our aid against you, but we refused; after all, you're our weapon against John. You should know that she will come for you Belmont."

"Let her come; it'll give me a chance to finish what I started."

The three smile in a way that makes me far too uncomfortable. Our group begins to make our way back out of the depths of the Volturi's lair, but it's only a few yards in that I start to feel dizzy again. The book falls out of my hands again as unconsciousness claims me once again.

This fainting bullshit is getting really old.

* * *

(A/N: Rory is back, but can they really use that book to save her?! Stay tuned to find out! The lines at the beginning are from Dark Side of Me by Coheed and Cambria – I told you this song was/is major inspiration. Also, sometimes I go with how characters look in the movie and sometimes I go with descriptions from the books - I hope it's not confusing, I just like some characters depicted certain ways. Thanks to everyone reading for the support!)


	29. Chapter 29

_Give me the burden, give me the blame  
I'll shoulder the load and I'll swallow the shame  
Give me the burden, give me the blame  
How many, how many Hail Mary's is it gonna take?_

_Don't care if he's guilty  
Don't care if he's not  
He's good and he's bad and he's all that I've got  
Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I'm begging you please_

_Don't Take that Sinner from Me_

* * *

Sincerely, from my War Machine to Yours

The sun beats down on me so hotly I'm sure that I dreamed going to Volterra, dreamed dying and getting found and resurrected; instead I've been lying under the bright sky slowly being burnt to a crisp as I die.

But I don't hurt badly enough for that to be true. I feel like a weight is sitting on me as I struggle to a sitting position, but there's no such thing; everything just feels so goddamn heavy in the sweltering heat. Instead of my silly Texas t-shirt and leggings, when I look down I notice I'm wearing what a gun slinging outlaw in the old-west would; dusty black cowboy boots with tarnished silver spurs, worn pants tucked into those with a black leather holster – an actual holster – slung low around my hips with a thin cotton button up shirt and leather vest. A cowboy hat sit's at my feet, the black fabric sun-bleached and slightly dirty. Along-side of that is a mahogany handled revolver, filigree etched in its silver shining brightly in the sun. I rise to my feet and grab both objects, setting the hat firmly on my head and driving the weapon back into its place at my side.

I've got to figure out just where the hell I am and what the fuck is going on here. Maybe I've officially lost my mind, or maybe I died again and instead of floating around in non-space I get to have a grand old western adventure.

Something tells me it's not nearly as cut and dry as that, though. My brain feels like it's full to bursting as I survey the landscape around me; it's nothing but badlands similar to the one Maddie and I walked through barely a day ago. Great, I'm stranded alone in outlaw gear in the middle of fucking nowhere. Using what little landmarks there are I start trudging ahead to try and get anywhere but here. If this is a dream I need to find a way to wake up soon, and if it isn't I need to get somewhere out of the sun, stat.

Silence echoes ominously in the seemingly limitless space – the sound morphs into all sorts of malicious voices and notes. They tell me I'm too late, that I am dead and trying anymore is futile. The book failed and Jasper is on his way to die. Everything I ever did was for nothing, and all I left in my wake was a trail of corpses. I'll never see the one I love, even if it is some twisted perversion of the word. I'd kill anyone to bring her back, do whatever it –

Hold the fucking phone here; her? These aren't my feelings _or_ thoughts – these are the thoughts of a man half full of madness begging for the release of death to end the pain and anguish of _enduring._

Looking out across the craggy desert, I know exactly whose mind I'm in. Might not be the corner of it Jasper occupies, but I've got unfinished business with the man who calls this wasteland home. My spurs jingle as I set off to the horizon again – I have a feeling direction doesn't matter.

Every step in this desert prison brings me closer to the Major.

* * *

_-dying we have t-_

_-get him the fuck out of here-_

_He has to stay with her or I can't-_

_-do you propose we do?_

_Hold on, Amory._

I'm holding on crazy voices on the wind. I don't know for what exactly, but I'm holding on.

Time's fuzzier here than it's ever been before; I can't tell if its days or seconds before I spot a small dot on the horizon. Even from here I can tell it's a building, and somehow I know he's in there. As much as I've thought about getting this second chance, I haven't laid out what I'm going to say or do. Not that I think a plan will help me much; he's too unpredictable. I guess all I can do is shoot as straight I can with this troublesome man – I can't be intimidated anymore, and I need to embrace this if I want to make Jasper a part of my future. My legs never seem to tire as I approach the building, and the thirst within me has nothing to do with needing water. There's a deep ache in my heart and head, a void that needs to be filled.

Wind whips at my face and hair, hot and arid. My forehead burns unpleasantly…but not in the way a sunburn or windburn would. It feels like a tattoo. Just what the fuck is going on in this surreal desert? I keep walking out to the building on the horizon; it's closer than it should be for having only taken a handful of steps. The dark and dirty wooden structure looms in front of me almost forebodingly.

With a laugh I realize the building is a saloon – not so scary, beat up and rickety, complete with swinging doors and an old-timey sign. Good thing, too; I doubt there's water, but I never say no to a little whiskey. Or a lot.

In this case _a lot._

There really is nothing here except the building and I. No signs of any other life be it human or animal; just the same still silence. It's as if everything here withered away and died out leaving no trace at all – the definition of a ghost town.

Old wood creaks under my boot heel as I climb the porch of the saloon. The jingling of my spurs dies down as I stand in front of the small doors, one hand instinctively planted on the butt of my sidearm – it feels weird doing so left-handed. I place my other, slightly disfigured hand firmly on one of the doors and it gives slightly under my touch. This could be a weird dream, but I'm willing to bet everything it's something far more important than that. I expect that this will not be without struggle, I half expect the Major to jump me as soon as I walk in the door.

What I'm met with when the door swings open soundlessly is a man bent over the bar, hands in his familiar honey-blond hair looking oddly dashing in a tattered grey military uniform. My entrance isn't quiet, after all I do have on spurs, but even at the racket he doesn't pick his head up from his hands. I cross the dirt covered plank flooring slowly, afraid that any movement too sudden will wake him too violently from his melancholy reverie. Stopping a few feet from his back I clear my parched throat.

"You and I need to have a word, Major Whitlock."

He turns slowly, and when his red eyes finally meet mine he looks nothing like the force I saw that night of the party. Dull crimson wanders over my body before stopping at the ends of my missing fingers.

"Kill me. I'd rather die than put you through this again; I've fought to live all these years until now but I can't bear this."

"That why I'm dressed like this?" I question, drawing the weapon before letting it hang at my side, "Gotta say, if this is what women dressed like back in your day maybe I would've fit in just fine."

There's finally the faintest ghost of a smile on those pretty and terrible lips, "Partly. We didn't think you'd care to be a confederate soldier."

"This has incendiary rounds in it, right? Go big or go home."

"Good enough to end me."

I gesture towards the rafters with the barrel of the gun, "So this is it, huh? The prison that holds you – I expected more bars than one." I say jokingly, eyeing the whiskey behind the saloon counter.

"Goddamn it, woman, quit with your jokes and kill me!" He advances on me slowly, creeping forward like a mountain lion hunting prey, "End this! You can't be with him with me in the way, and I refuse to live another _fucking_ day without you! _Kill me!"_

His yell reverberates off the wooden walls. I let the racket die down before I offer my response: I raise the pistol between us and wonder if I'm about to make the biggest mistake of our lives – one that will end him as surely as me.

I stare down the metal sight straight into the eyes of the dark side of the man I love. He searches my eyes, opens his mouth to say his final words, but I make my move first.

Six unfired bullets hit the floor when I open the chamber of the revolver; the sound is almost musical as they bounce to a stop at our feet. I drop the pistol back to my side and let go. It drops to the wood next to my boots with a dull thud.

The look in his eyes is fury – just a second after the gun drops he has his hands around my throat.

Maybe it's because I've died once before or maybe because I'm set on this path but I feel no fear as his large pale and scarred hands dig into the marked flesh of my neck.

"You should hav-"

"I-I," my voice dissolves into coughs and I feel him let up just a bit, "I won't kill you."

Just like that I'm dropped. I clutch at my neck as I choke in giant breaths. When I look up again, the Major is gone.

"He-y!" My voice cracks from my sore windpipe, "We've got shit to talk about! No more running!"

I dart through the swinging doors back out into the sunlight of the wastes, and he's standing on the porch highlighted against the sea of golden sand and dry weeds.

"I wanted you dead," he says in a voice that is Jasper's but isn't, "I might not want this now but I have wanted it; wanted to _break_ you. I've…always been an action and reaction kind of man; thinking things through is _his_ problem. I get angry and…violence is my default, my nature.

"It wasn't until I thought you really had died that I realized all the terrible things it entailed. I didn't know for once I'd be happier in the confines of this prison than in a world without you. For once I knew no amount of blood I spilled would amount to a fucking thing – you'd be just as gone.

"But I'll never have complete control. I don't have the willpower, obviously; sometimes I just snap. Being with Jasper Whitlock – being with _me – _is like playing Russian roulette with that revolver in there. One day I might kill you, Amory. I won't even know I'm doing it."

"I'm pretty fucking lucky lately so I think I'll take my chances. I'm not the most stable person either, Major, and neither of us asked to be who we are, but I'm going to make the best of this craziness. I love Jasper, even the dark and brutal parts; that means I love you too.

"You know…This whole thing is my fault. I should've handled our first meeting better. We probably wouldn't even be in this mess if I had, but in my mind thinking things through is no one's problem."

"I'm a bad man, Kitten," he says slyly, settling a smile on me that has my heart racing – it's all Jazz, "I might want to keep you around, but there are still things I want from you, ways I want you, that I shouldn't."

I chortle at his darkly suggestive tone, swirling the whiskey in my glass, "Oh? I'll be the judge of that. Don't worry Trouble; I like it rough."

I don't miss the spike of lust suddenly filling the air, "You accept all of this?"

"I do; I want to be with Jasper and you're part of him. If he can overlook what a monumental fuck up and bitch I can be I can deal with a dark-doppelganger with some serious obsession issues. I think."

"You'll have forever to learn to love me," he says with a smirk.

I lean my back against one of the porch supports and raise an eyebrow at him, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Instead of answering right away he looks behind me back into the dark bar, "You're going to need a drink for _this_ news."

* * *

I down a large shot of whiskey as I regard the man across from me. The red-eyed side of my soul mate leans back comfortably in his chair, that dark smirk is back on his face – I'm learning to like it.

"What they found in that book brought you here," he starts, pouring me another shot, "and it's going to do a lot more than anyone bargained for; you wanted was to find a way to cure your disease, Amory but...

"What you get is immortality. They're finishing a ritual that will bind our souls together for eternity, more so than they already are."

How do I respond? What do I feel about this? I'm caught thinking about how much I've fought to live versus how much I never liked the idea of immortality. Now I'm tied, forever in the most literal sense,to a man that I met only a year ago, a man who I love most certainly but haven't talked to except in this strange dream world for _months_. Can we handle this kind of connection when both of our minds are so shattered, so shadowed? Can we do this? Can I handle being alive forever, even if I have him at my side?

Will he stay at my side forever or are we doomed to repeat the past? This makes me think of Machiavelli, 'Absolute power corrupts absolutely.'

This is the craziest thing that's ever happened to me, but I'm on board. Screw consequence.

"Fuck it," I say with a shrug.

"I figured that would be your reply; I'm sure you'll get the full explanation later."

"Whatever, I can't think about that right now. In the meantime…Watch everything closely; we're going to _need_ you for the time to come my dear Major."

He leans forward, elbows propped on the table as he gazes at me, enraptured, "I _love_ it when you talk like this, Kitten."

Even in this strange dream world he makes me blush, "Pay attention. When I wake up I'm going to tell everyone what happened to me-"

"You won't have to tell me," he says with a wide grin, "you'll be able to _show_ me. I'll kill anyone you need me to, gladly; whoever did this will pay."

I ignore the 'show me' for the time being; one thing at a time, "I have a feeling you'll _really_ love this; Maria is our first target."

He howls laughter, dark and malicious and downright sexy, before speaking through chuckles, "_First_? You're full of surprises."

"Just you wait, Major – with the things I've got planned, we'll have no shortage of bodies to drop."

Cocking his head towards the door, a slight frown creases his face, "Looks like our time is up. I'll see you soon, love."

Before I have a chance to reply, the same voice that brought me back from the brink of death once again calls me back to the real world; softly this time, without the pain that accompanied my first rebirth.

_Wake up, Kitten._

* * *

(A/N: So now we know what happens with our dear Major; Rory's death _kind of_ changed his outlook on things and enabled them to at least have some sort of understanding. At least now he doesn't _want_ her dead – I couldn't make him a totally good guy, I like him dark. Had to change the summary for this story, as well...Immortality was an option after all hah. Lyrics are from Devil's Backbone by the Civil Wars, another song I listened to a ton while writing this story – give it a listen, it's awesome. So, we're approaching the end here, one chapter to go, but it'll lead us straight into the sequel. All the details will be in the final author's note, so check it out! Thanks for all the views/reviews/follows/favorites you radical readers!)


	30. Chapter 30

(A/N: Hi guys! I'm up top this time because this chapter has some…risqué bits, as well as being the final chapter for The Back End of Forever! The story is not over, though; you'll see what I've got in store mwhaha. **The Start from the End** will be the second part (not really a sequel, just a continuation), and it will be up as you read this. Ok, back to things people care about; remember those sexings I talked about in the first chapter? Yeah, that's happening. It's a pretty lengthy scene (longest I've written, anyway); it starts after the page break and has no plot relevance, so it's totally skippable if that kind of thing isn't your cup of tea! For those of you that have been waiting and are ready to beat me to a pulp at this point for delaying this for so long, here you go! I'd like to thank everyone who has taken the time to read this, write a review, favorite or follow – seriously, you make my day! Stay tuned for what's to come! The following poem is i carry your heart with me (i carry it in by E.E. Cummings.)

* * *

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in  
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere  
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done  
by me is only your doing, my darling)  
i fear  
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want  
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)  
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant  
and whatever a sun will always sing is you  
here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows  
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)  
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart  
i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

We, Us, Together

That world, the Major's wasteland, is slowly assimilated into Jasper's other thoughts; a prison that held a man for decades on decades is finally laid to rest. This new place I find myself in, someplace I know instantly is now an extension of my very soul, is Jazz's mind made whole. It's cliché as hell, but I can't separate his thoughts from mine in this space. Sorry and forgiveness aren't needed…somehow we've transcended that.

It's terrifying at first – how else could baring everything you've ever kept in the dark be? Not that I've held anything back, but now he knows the intimate details of my past, the little nuances I'd never be able to recall well enough to vocalize or those things too damning for my mind to remember. A tumultuous sea of sadness I could only before summarize at best. It's a connection that goes both ways; his lengthy past seems to flash by in an instant and I absorb it all. The terrible pain of his change, each pang of guilt – or absence there-of when the Major took the wheel – at each kill, vampire and human; a century of bloodlust and decades of resisting it– I could only ever fathom what he felt up taking a life, being able to _feel _it all, but now I know it clearly as he does. He's had more than a few 'relapses,' as Carlisle so delicately puts it, and each time he thinks himself a monster, a beast. That's not the truth at all; he's so much stronger than I ever could have known.

Loneliness tinges each of these memories – lessened sometimes, but always lurking somewhere within.

But there are good things too. They surface slowly – Jasper's childhood was thankfully unlike mine; it was rough, being the mid eighteen hundreds, but it was happy. My victory as I finally crawled from that old-growth forest, sun lighting my face as I tasted my first bit of hard won freedom; the surge of pride at each successful hunt that was really _worth_ something. The few times we'd each felt some semblance of contentment bring us to the point we met and things fell into place. Now, literally sharing a soul, we're both _whole._ This new connection makes what we had as soul mates pale in comparison. Even through the craziness of the past few months, I don't have to search through his thoughts to know it'd take more force than the universe contains to keep him from me again. I can say the same.

Our separation – every feeling good and bad, every moment we both thought would be our last, every time we hoped for things to work out differently…We each almost did do everything differently at one point or another, but it took getting my fingers pruned off then dying and him going slightly _more_ insane than usual and being detained by the Volturi – who tortured him by the way; fuck Jane, I _will_ kill her – for us to get our shit together. Not even with a second to spare, either.

I know now that what the Major said is true. Through this strange new connection I know everything that's been happening since I passed out through Jasper's eyes – we're back in Forks, far away from the nightmare of the past week. That book held what we always hoped for – a way to save me. It's with trepidation that his thoughts confirm what his other side told me.

Not only am I bound to Jasper for as long as he lives, and not only will we always share thoughts and emotions now, they gave me a fucking face tattoo to do it. I mean, I know at the start of all this I said 'no big deal' to a face tattoo, but that was when I was _dying._ The Crown of Anathema – a mark considered to be a curse in its brief period of use; because of course eternity comes with a price. I'm completely healed – still missing fingers, but healed – but it will have its cost. We're bound for _forever,_ mind and spirit….and at any time, Jasper can pull my strings; this mark, this Crown, means that at any given moment he could override my reasoning, dominate my will.

'_Never, Kitten. I swear I'll never hurt you again.'_

'_Not unless you _want _me to, that is,'_

They both speak at once, two sides of the same coin; the second, subtly darker voice and the statement he makes has heat pooling between my thighs, and my less than clean thoughts spark a flood of images through my head – imaginings of Jasper's own mind. Versions of times where we got close…but in these fantasies things go farther.

'_I'm going to jump your bones _then_ carry on with my master scheme; priorities.'_

He knows what I have planned, knows what I'm doing is right even if it must be done through violence….maybe especially since it must be done through violence. There will be a lot to hash out once I wake up back in Forks, and we'll have to get in contact with as many other covens as we can to support us in our cause – not to mention I'll need more help than just bloodsuckers. I'll have to learn to trust my family again if we're all going to make it through this, but I have a feeling that will be the easiest of all the things I have planned.

So far, this has been the weirdest love and/or horror story I've ever heard in my life – and we aren't even done yet. After being brought back from the brink of death – twice if we're getting technical – I'm ready to tackle things I thought beyond my power, prepared to right wrongs trespassed by me and others that just can't stand anymore. I'm not even taking things to extreme, not really; even without the war I'm about to wage our hands would still be forced by my own foolish and failed act of vengeance.

'_We're going after Maria, and when I'm finished ripping that bitch limb from limb I'm going to turn on those egotistical pricks in Volterra – mostly because I just _really_ don't like them. Then I'm going to use all that venom to mark myself into a tool of war; when I tear my grandfather's still beating heart out of his chest I want him to know I achieved everything he ever wanted before he dies.'_

'_Amory, no matter what comes next, we're in it together.'_

'_Where do we start? I'll kill them all for you.'_

The two voices become one, running over each other, and I know both of them speak true. I feel myself start to float up again and know I'm close to waking from a two day nap; that means being with Jasper again, being _home_ again, so I want to hurry and wake the fuck up despite the pleasantness of sharing a strange dream with him.

'_I love you Trouble. I'll see you soon.'_

'_I love you too Kitten.'_

With him at my side, I'll face eternity a thousand times over without fear; I'll deal death to our enemies in a swift conflagration of reprisal with a smile on my face.

I'm finally free from being caught in the undertow at the back end of forever, and now I stand at the start from the end ready for a rise and reform – not only for myself, but the world around me. There will be death, a torrential flood of it, but at the end of it all there will be peace. Or at least, as close to peace as a foul-mouthed fuck up of a hunter can facilitate.

Quite frankly, peace can go fuck itself as long as I get laid, _soon._

Like when I wake up soon.

* * *

My eyelids flutter open and in the dim light of an overcast dawn I can just make out Jasper's features through sleep glazed vision; his gaze flicks from my lips to my eyes, and it's a look that's just like the color of them –burnt sugar, sweet with a dark edge. His scent surrounds me, woodsy and masculine, and I bury my face in his neck.

"You…I..." His voice is low and husky as he struggles for words; I place a hard kiss against his throat, sleep drunk and fearless.

"I know; it's good to see you too. Things are back to being the _normal_ kind of crazy, right?" It's a rhetorical question and as he smiles I look around my room, taking a moment to appreciate being back at home; when I stretch out next to him and his hand ducks under the thin shirt I'm wearing to the inked skin beneath. The cool sensation makes me shiver in anticipation; I know exactly what's to come next. We're in my bed, and there's no one around to hear us within these walls. I fire up my marks for the first time since my newest ink and I feel almost limitless; my body thrums with energy, burns as hotly as the sun, and I don't seem to tire in the least. Which is good; my blood shouldn't be a problem at all now, and I don't intend on being done here anytime soon. There's a new burn, though, something circling my head and dotting my face.

"So, what do I look like?"

"Beautiful," he breathes without missing a beat. I feel the truth behind his words, feel his adoration, and curl back up against him as a blush lights my face.

"Will I feel everything you feel now?"

He nods, chin tapping the top of my head, then dips his head so when he speaks again his cool breath hits the shell of my ear, "I missed you so much, Rory."

'_Show me, Jazz; I want to feel it.'_

There's a brief pause before he pulls me flush against him. I squirm excitedly against his stony frame; his hard presses against my thigh and he groans before planting a rough kiss on my lips. When I'm left thoroughly breathless, he pulls away.

"Do you want –"

"I want you to shut the fuck up," I assert seriously, climbing ever-so-gracefully on top of him – screw knowing what my face looks like now; it seems to be doing it for him. He grinds his hips lightly against mine and I look down at him with a lust filled smirk.

"_That's_ more like it, Trouble."

He slams me with the intensity of his lust; to my chagrin, he has me bucking my hips wildly against his as I arch my back. Honey eyes watch me intently as my body writhes against his, looking more than pleased at my response. The rumble of a low growl just adds to the sinful indulgence; I grab his hand and dance my tongue against his cool palm.

He inhales sharply; the sound sets a smirk on my face and he tries to speak, "I-"

I hush him while running my hands up his sides under the long sleeved shirt he's wearing. My breath is erratic and my heart pounds in my chest as I feel the rough texture the scars left on his torso – it stops all lucid thought.

He wraps an arm around my waist as I bend down and capture him in a savage kiss; I want him to know just how badly I need him.

So maybe sleeping with him isn't _exactly_ a punch in the face; fuck it.

When I grab the hem of his shirt he leans upwards and I toss it to a shadowed corner of the room. Underneath is marble and muscle and marred flesh – perfectly imperfect to the point of madness. My wild thoughts just fuel his as I reach impatiently for the buckle of his _stupid fucking_ belt.

Instantly I'm on my back on the soft surface of my bed and the wooden frame creaks underneath us in protest.

"You're going to break the bed."

"_We're _going to break the bed; I'll get you a new one," he murmurs against my skin before kissing me just below the ear, at the point of one of my red marks. The sensation has me biting my lip in response, strangling a needy whimper.

"You are such a _tease,_" I gasp which causes him to grin – wickedly – in response.

He slips the shirt I have on over my head and _fuck_ does his desire for me spike ten-fold when I'm under him half naked and _begging_.

"Jazz, please, I can't wait anymore –" My voice dissolves into a cry of pleasure as his hand slides under the cotton shorts I'm wearing to run his chill fingers between my slick, heated thighs.

The way he growls deeply as his fingers lightly trace my sex has my mind going wild, and while there are a score of things I want to do with him, to him, right now my body demands his touch.

Sensing this, he thrusts two fingers into my wet heat, smirking and satisfied at my surprised mewl of gratification. I can't believe this is finally happening. I can't control the moans coming out of my mouth. I have no power over my own body; I'll more than willingly give control over to him if he continues this divine torture. Suddenly remembering I have hands, I try to both work the last shred of clothing I have on past my hips and slip my left hand under the waistband of his pants.

He moves with preternatural speed, and in an instant there are no barriers between us. He smiles roguishly down at me as he continues where he left off – I arch my back and see stars as he covers my mouth with his, eagerly swallowing the noises his ministrations coax from my lips.

I reach between us and stroke lightly at his stiff, silky length – the sudden surge of lasciviousness it sends through him I can feel as clearly as day, and the effect of it has me nearly climaxing; he's barely even touched me yet and I'm already a quivering mess beneath him. He _knows_ how close I am, the bastard, and removes his fingers from me. With a wolfish grin – I like this sexy mischievous side of him – he brings his digits to that stupidly perfect mouth and his tongue darts out to lick my taste off them.

Oh, he's _awful._ He's the devil himself…and I fucking love it.

Being able to use all my marks at once means that Jasper and I are on even playing ground; I'm as strong as a newborn, and it takes barely any effort to flip us over again. I'm straddling his hips, tracing my fingers over the scars littering his torso. I follow my fingers with my mouth; over each crescent shape I place a kiss or run my tongue over his silvery flesh – either way earns me a groan or sigh from my mate, who's getting more wild-eyed and eager by the second.

I shift my position ever so slightly, trying to get a better angle on his neck – but then I feel his shaft slide over my more than sensitive slit and it's all over, no more waiting…fuck, I had _so_ much planned_._

He props himself up on one hand, the other he uses to pin me against his hips as he buries his hardness inside of me. I feel complete, almost full to bursting as I undulate my body in response, purring in pleasure. Each thrust into me set's my mind and body aflame in lust, and he adds the sensation of his adept mouth worshiping the marks across my chest; to torment me farther he rakes his venom-wet tongue over the peaks of my small breasts and nips softly at my nipples. The chill feels more than exquisite against my scorching flesh.

'_You're _loud_, Kitten…but I want to make you _scream_.'_

I nod in delirium and make no protest when he lays me underneath him and enters me once again; I wrap my legs tightly around him and throw my head back as I cry out in wanton desire. When his lips hit my throat again, I can't control the feral thoughts running through my mind as I claw at his back.

'_Bite me, mark me_; _please Jazz, ple-'_

He stills over me staring through half-lidded lust glazed eyes and unkempt hair, and while I know he's unsure of my request, I also know he's going to honor it – I want it too damn badly for him to say no. All of my marks go dormant as I expose the scent of my blood again. With a husky snarl he drives his teeth through the skin at the base of my neck.

Fire spreads through me, courtesy of not only the venom but the sheer _danger_ of the act; his thoughts are an incoherent mess as soon as the coppery fluid fills his mouth. My heart beats viciously in my chest as he laps up the flood of red pouring from the fresh wound and continues pumping into me. It's too much; it puts me into a state of euphoria that has me losing all sense. As soon as he pulls his fangs out of my neck the wound closes and I send my marks into overdrive as I flick my hips savagely against his.

"Jazz, I-I'm gonna – oh _fuck_!" He picks up the pace as soon as I open my mouth, and he really does have me screaming now. He's too good, this is too good…

My back arches when I feel myself tighten around his length; I close my eyes tightly to try to stop the stars dancing around my vision, but Jasper places a searing kiss on my parted lips.

'_Open your eyes; I want to see you Amory.'_

I comply instantly, eyes fluttering open to meet those pools made of burnt sugar and sunshine. My orgasm seems to last for minutes before his pace finally hit's a fever pitch and he looks down at me with sheer adoration written in his expression; he comes yelling my name as a raspy prayer. The final few shallow thrusts send me over the edge once again.

When we're finally still, I lay under him a panting, sweaty mess.

"Fuck _me,_" he chuckles at my overly exhausted tone and presses a chaste kiss to my forehead – even after just having sex the small act has my cheeks flushing.

"Again already? _Gladly_," he nuzzles against my neck before licking lightly at the fresh scar adorning my neck. "You taste better than I ever imagined, Rory." God, I hope he keeps saying stuff this sexy for forever.

"You owe me a new bed," I say, flipping him onto his back with a giggle, "maybe something made of steel?" No, seriously – the bedframe is fucked.

"I love you," he smiles at me, leaning up for another kiss. I _almost_ let my lips touch his, feel the faintest hint of cool air against my mouth, but then I pull back with a pleased smirk.

"I love you…but I'm about to make you _beg_ for me."

Oh, by the time I'm done with him he begs alright – we stay a tangled mess of limbs and minds for hours, conveying the depth and intimacy of our love with our bodies. And goddamn is everything we had to go through to get here worth it. I'll worry about that face tattoo and everything that comes with immortality later. Right now, I'm exactly where I want to be, exactly where I belong.

In the arms of the man I love; the start from the end.

* * *

_No regrets  
I embrace your defects  
To confess:  
You are my every wish  
I admit that I will never feel alone  
Once I call you home_

_Oh, maybe it's not now or later  
'Till you save the best for last  
I want to be everything you need_

* * *

(P.S.: So, more of this, less of this? Too far, not far enough? Let me know or I'll most likely just be doing fade-outs; it takes me forever to write this kind of stuff. Song lyrics belong to Coheed and Cambria (yeah, again) 2's my Favorite 1. Thanks guys, see you at **The Start from the End**!)


End file.
